


Knows No Bounds

by FireflySummerwynd



Category: Guns N' Roses, Poison (US Band)
Genre: F/M, Glam Metal, Multi, Pagan, Time Travel, hair metal, magick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 115,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23083786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySummerwynd/pseuds/FireflySummerwynd
Relationships: Bobby Dall/Belle O'Hara, Duff McKagan/Belle O'Hara
Comments: 6
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

_April, 1988_

_Los Angeles, California_

Long Days in the studio and even longer Nights out on the town afterward were generally the norm for twenty-four-Year-old Bobby Dall and his band. Coming off the road from their first real tour after getting a record deal in July of the previous Year, they knew there was still a lotta work to be done, if they wanted their band to thrive and really take off. That didn’t mean they couldn’t let loose and have fun before they wound up burning themselves out, but they’d one problem with that. All of them seemed to take it a bit too far for doing so almost every Night, but they didn’t let that stop them unless their front man’s Health took a nose-dive.

Therefore, passing out in bed next to some chick he didn’t know wasn’t exactly unusual for the young, brunette bassist. It was actually more commonplace–and not for just him, either–that it was almost more normal to him than both going to bed and waking up alone. Besides, at the moment, he was simply too intoxicated to care if he went to bed alone or with someone else, let alone the state he’d wake up in the following Morn.

Somewhere in the Midwest–most likely between Iowa and Wisconsin, if they’d managed to stick to their schedule relatively well–Duff McKagan was in much the same predicament. The twenty-four-Year-old bassist wasn’t really all that popular since his own band was still on tour for their debut album, but his fame was slowly starting to rise. That was part of why he spent his Time drunk more often than he didn’t, and for him, it wasn’t simply ’cuz it was the rock ‘n’ roll thing to do. No, an experience from when he was about twelve that woulda been traumatic for anyone was no doubt the root cause of the panic attacks he often still suffered from, but nobody could convince him that drinking wasn’t helping that particular problem.

Once again after a long Night of partying following a show–not to mention the Sound check and interview before even that–the blonde bassist didn’t care if he went to bed alone or with someone else. He knew he was gonna wake up hungover as hell and start all over again the next Day, so why should he care what state he went to bed in? There _wasn’t_ really a reason to care, so he didn’t–he only cared about where he was gonna get his next drink and coke fix from, not to mention when.

If either of these young men’d known what they were really gonna wake up to, they’d have cared a lil more than they did–but they were both out like Lights, and would be for hoursta come.


	2. One

_April, 2018_

_Sedalia, North Carolina_

In a small, sleepy town just a few miles West of Burlington, a young woman’d gone to bed under her usual circumstances. Alone–save for her mother on the other side of the wall from her bedroom–sober, and not long before Sunrise, as was her norm most Days. The only thing she’d available to her for any kinda snuggling was the teddy bear she’d gotten from her great-grandmother’s funeral thirteen Years ago, which was almost as long as she was tall.

Lyrica Belle O’Hara–usually referred to as Belle by those closest to her–didn’t really think too much of waking up hot enough to be sweating. It happened occasionally, even this early in the Year, considering how hot and humid it could get in Central North Carolina. Maybe it happened to her a lil more often than it should, especially when she’d to go off her magnesium supplements, but it wasn’t really a cause for concern. What _was_ a cause for concern was the other thing she noticed before she could crack her eyes open–the sensation of flesh and body hair under her cheek, as well as pressed against her back.

As if that wasn’t enough, becoming aware of the distinctly masculine ridge that was pressing against her ass was enough to startle just about any woman. Gasping as she bolted up as well as she could, she definitely wasn’t expecting the sight she was greeted with–that of messy blonde hair, brown at the roots, spread across her pillow in addition to her own Chocolate hair.

The hair’s owner grunted when she accidentally kneed him in the hip from trying to sit up so suddenly, another, deeper grunt sounding behind her. Turning as much as she could to look over her shoulder, Belle saw hair that was equally brown as her own and just as messy as that of the blonde next to her. However, the brown hair coming from behind her appeared to be Naturally wavy, but like it’d been all but tortured to Death. With chemicals, heat, or both, she couldn’t Begin to say–a lotta people were lucky to even _have_ hair left in this Day and Age, as much shit as they did to their locks. It wouldn’t surprise her if she was one of the few left who–after growing her hair back out so it was all virgin–didn’t do anything but wash, condition, and brush it.

“Da fuq giz?” the blonde grumbled, reaching up to shove his hair outta his face.

The face that was revealed made her jaw drop in utter shock.

“What the–who the fuck’re you?” he asked, those Naturally brown brows furrowing in confusion. “And how the hell’dja get into my bed?”

“I think _that’s_ what I should be asking _you,”_ Belle told him. “’Cuz this is _my_ room, and therefore _my_ bed.”

“What?” This Time, the short question was posed by the brunette behind her as he, too sat up to shove his hair outta his face.

“Oh, holy fuckin’ Goddess,” she muttered once she got a good look at him. “I’ve gotta be fuckin’ Dreaming or something.”

That was when both guys realized they weren’t alone–as in, totally alone, or just alone with her.

“Bobby?” the blonde asked, those hazel eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

“Duff?” he countered, looking equally shocked before turning his attention back to the young woman. “Who the hell _are_ ya, and where the fuck’re _we?”_

“Well, for starters, just call me Belle,” she told them. “And if ya dare ask me to sing about a lil village full of people, I’ma smack both of ya.”

Bobby and Duff couldn’t help a chuckle at her spunk, even as they agreed to that term.

“But you’re certainly not where you’re _supposed_ to be–in more ways than one,” Belle continued. “I’m sure Los Angeles for Bobby, but who knows where for Duff, in terms of place.”

The blonde looked a bit confused as he scratched his head in Thought, then told her he was supposed to’ve been on his way to Wisconsin at last check. Nodding, she took a deep breath, trying to decide how blunt or gentle she should be with these two, given what she was pretty sure was going on. Judging by their physical appearances, they were both in their early-to-mid-twenties–which meant they shouldn’t be in the current Year with her by a country mile.

If these two were really the age they appeared, they should be in some part of 1987, _maybe_ some part of 1988 at the latest. Yet, here they were, not only in her bed with her clean across the country from where they shoulda been, but in a totally different decade. Somehow or another, they’d been catapulted roughly thirty Years into the Future as they slept, which was strange enough in and of itself.

Finally deciding to just lay it on them, Belle took a deep breath and did just that, knowing they were bound to be shocked and call her crazy at first. Sure enough, both men looked shocked for all of two seconds before they burst into raucous laughter, making her glad that she’d already heard her mother up and moving around. If they’d woken her up with that laughter, they’d have hell to pay for the rest of the Day, ’cuz she’d no doubt be more of a Bear than she wasn’t. Even still, she couldn’t do anything but wait for them to shut up so she could start offering up proof that she really wasn’t crazy, but rather actually telling them the Truth.

“Well, while ya idiots’re getting your laughs at my expense, I’ma take care of something else,” she told them as she rolled her eyes.

Neither young bassist could do more than nod as they continued laughing–till she crawled right over Bobby, thus momentarily settling her weight right on his Morn Wood.

“Oh, Jesus Christ–fuck me,” he groaned, his head tilting back against the pillow it lay on.

“Not my fault we’re stuck in a Queen-size bed,” Belle snickered, pausing to move something that was blocking the door.

Taking a few deep breathsta get himself under Control again, the older of the pair turned his attention to the door when she opened it. Forced to shield his eyes for a few moments as much as Duff was, it wasn’t till after she’d disappeared from sight that he saw what’d been blocking the portal. It was obviously an amp–although not nearly of the size and quality either of them usually used–but he couldn’t tell if it was for a guitar or bass from even the few feet that separated them.

After his eyes’d adjusted to the Sunlight suddenly flooding the almost pitch-black room, Bobby finally sat up and tossed his legs over the edge of the bed. The younger of the pair moved to follow him once he got up, almost immediately hissing in surprise at the chill of the hardwood that met his feet. Ignoring said chill and moving toward the door, he knelt down to get a better look at the amp that’d caught his attention. Right below the power switch on the right-hand side was _B-fifteen,_ which told him all he needed to know in as lil Time as it took to read that. It was a fifteen-watt bass amp, which brought a slight smile to his face–no matter when or where he was, at least he’d still have a way to express himself.

Duff was too curious not to join him, and he seemed equally delightedly surprised when he pointed that out to him. That made them both look around the room, and from their vantage point on their knees, they spied a pair of guitars and a bass on stands in the corner across from the door. One of those guitars was acoustic, while the other and the bass were both obviously electric, and they all looked like they were more or less pristine condition. Neither were very sure how much, if any use these instruments got, but it was pretty obvious that they were taken care of, nonetheless.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Startled by suddenly hearing her voice again, they both jumped as they jerked their attention to the door and saw their young hostess again.

“Unless you’re Intent on treating them like they’re china dolls, or your own flesh-and-blood babies, you’re not touching my gear,” she practically growled, her eyes looking more like chunks of Obsidian.

“Well, there goes _that_ expressional outlet, I guess,” Bobby chuckled as he pushed himself back to his feet.

“I never said y’all couldn’t use ’em, if you’re gonna treat ’em right,” the young woman said. “But you’re not gonna lay a hand on ’em, if there’s even a chance that you’re gonna do worse than _maybe_ pop a string.”

“Ya sound so possessive of them,” Duff noted, having recognized her expression and tone all too well. “Can’t say I’m any different myself, though.”

“Prolly not for the same reasons–not by a long shot,” Belle told him, moving to open the other door in the room.

Both men merely bit their tongues, not sure if they even _should_ ask about that, let alone if they could.

“Those guitars–they belonged to my grandfather before he died,” she continued as she rummaged through her closet, raising her voice enough for them to hear her clearly. “That bass–the last thing he ever bought for or tried to help me buy before his Death. I guess it depends on how much of the story ya know, and how ya look at it.”

“Oh, my God,” the older bassist breathed, now getting her possessive behavior when it came to her gear. “I’m sorry to hear that, Belle.”

“Don’t be–sad though it may be to say, he’s better off dead,” the young woman told them. Turning back around, she’d three sets of jeans draped over her arm.

The younger of the pair couldn’t help but look curious, but like he definitely didn’t wanna ask as he turned his attention to the garments she held.

“I watched that man slowly suffocate to Death while his useless kidneys poisoned him and his heart barely functioned,” Belle said, having caught his expression. “Would either of y’all wanna be confined to a recliner in that kinda shape for what remained of your Lives?”

“Fuck that shit,” both spat in unison, their expressions quickly morphing into a frown.

“Well, that’s why I say he’s better off dead,” she sighed. “Yeah, his Death hurts, even a lil over three Years later–he was practically my daddy growing up, and I was too stupid, young, and _naïve_ to see it till it was too late. But seeing him in that kinda shape–I wouldn’t Wish that on even my worst enemy.”

Even Bobby couldn’t help a sympathetic nod as she laid two of the pairs of jeans on the bed, keeping the third one draped over her arm. Kneeling down in front of the short, black dresser, she opened the top of two drawers and started rooting through it. When she rose back to her feet, they saw what looked like three pieces of folded cloth in her hand, two of which she tossed on the bed.

As it turned out, she wasn’t like most of the young women they’d ever encountered, ’cuz she refused to wear panties, let alone thongs. She’d pulled not one, but three pairs of boxer-briefs from the drawer to add to the jeans she’d laid on her bed moments earlier. Judging by the number of both, she was apparently doing what she could to put together outfits for them, which actually took them by surprise. That drew a soft chuckle from her as she gestured for at least one of them to follow her, clearly wanting to show them something else. Shrugging, the older bassist snagged a pair of the jeans and boxer-briefs, then made to follow her once she’d opened the gate that spanned her bedroom doorway.

Leading him to the End of the hall, Belle showed him where the bathroom was before stepping into the only other door that was in the hall. She quickly closed it behind her, but not so quickly that he didn’t make out what appeared to be a bed under one of the two heavily-curtained windows. Not really seeing any other choices and really needing to piss, Bobby shrugged as he headed into the bathroom she’d led him to. He’d a bit of trouble getting the door to stay shut, even after he’d locked it, but it appeared that the house was pretty old–no doubt it’d settled quite a bit. Once it stayed shut, he shucked the boxers he’d woken up in and turned toward the toilet after laying the clothes he’d been given on the bathroom counter.

It didn’t take him long to step back out, and by the Time he did, that final door his hostess’d disappeared into was open again. He couldn’t help tugging at his crotch slightly, if only ’cuz these boxer-briefs were a lil big on him, but felt too small since the legs were much shorter than what he was used to. The jeans he’d been handed were also way too short for his long legs, but he supposed it was better than being relegated to running around completely nekkid.

“Feels too small, even though they’re not, huh?” the older bassist chuckled when he walked back into her bedroom to see Duff doing the same thing.

“Yeah, and it doesn’t help that I’ve gotta piss,” he grumbled.

“Bathroom’s at the End of the hall, dude,” Bobby told him, pointing in the Direction he meant. “Just watch the door unless you’re an exhibitionist–it doesn’t like to stay closed without some finagling.”

“Thanks for the warning,” the younger bassist chuckled, merely stepping over the gate as he took off.

“Sorry about the too-short jeans,” Belle piped up, popping up from the other side of the bed. “Not much I can do about that right now.”

“Hey, it’s better than running around stark-nekkid,” he chuckled. “Or in nasty boxers that haven’t been washed in God-only-knows how long.”

“Yeah, trust me–I caught that stench as soon as I sat up,” the young woman laughed. She hopped up on the bed and crawled across it, accidentally giving him a helluva view right down the front of her tank top. “But since I tend to prefer wearing mens’ clothes, I figured they’d do on such short notice.”

“Uh, yeah–they’ll do for now,” the older bassist agreed half-absently, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Quit looking down my shirt, ya perv,” Belle giggled as she sat up so she could slide off the edge of the bed right in front of him. “I mean, I know I’ve tits–they’re kinda hard to miss unless you’re blind, after all–but they don’t need to be stared at constantly.”

He couldn’t help blushing furiously as he averted his gaze, even though she’d since straightened up.

“’Cuz no, I’m not lesbian or anything weird, but still,” the young woman told him. “Ya don’t see him staring at yours and Duff’s crotches just ’cuz you’re obviously Blessed in the britches, do ya?”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Bobby chuckled sheepishly, then did a double-take at her words. “Wait– _Blessed in the britches?”_

“Well, I can tell that neither of y’all’re needle dicks,” she laughed, gently patting his rump in a clear _outta my way_ kinda manner. “Now, exactly _how big_ either of y’all are–I guess that’s up for debate since I haven’t had a reason to see for myself.”

The older bassist couldn’t help the barking laugh he let out as his younger counterpart finally Returned from the bathroom. He looked just as ridiculous in the too-short jeans since he was only about three inches taller, and said jeans were so short that they looked more like capris on him. But apparently, Belle was just big enough that without a belt, her jeans rode low on their hips and could be made to look like they weren’t quite as short, if they pulled them down a lil bit.

Now that all three of them were dressed, given that she’d managed to find a couple shirts that fit them relatively well, their young hostess led them outta her room again. She headed down the short hallway that seemed to End right at the front door, but they quickly realized opened into what was obviously the living room. On the couch so that they faced some kinda screen across the room was a person whose hair appeared to be ash-blonde. Maybe it was actually Platinum and just appeared an ashier Color ’cuz of the weird lighting in the room, not to mention the odd, seemingly Color-Changing paint on the walls. That didn’t really matter, though, ’cuz when they turned around, Bobby and Duff realized that the person was practically an older version of their young hostess.

Surprise crossed her features, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, when she clapped eyes on the pair of bassists towering over Belle. Both of them couldn’t help but fidget nervously, even as she introduced the older woman as her mother, Katana. Hearing what the woman’s name was made them both chuckle, but they still sounded nervous as one set of hazel eyes locked with the other for a few moments before she turned her attention to the older of the pair. Her gaze was intense and studious as she locked eyes with him, and he couldn’t help squirming even more till that gaze finally Returned to her daughter as he wondered if she Intended to kill him in his sleep or something.

Even Duff’s jaw dropped when Kat asked if she was losing her mind, or if she’d somehow Returned to her high school Days and dragged her daughter along with her. The young woman let out a humored laugh as she rounded the couch and headed to the door across the room, her demeanor totally nonchalant as she headed outside. Calling over her shoulder that she wasn’t losing her mind, nor had she been the one to suddenly Time Travel, she headed onto the porch that they now saw just outside the door.

“So, what the hell’s going on?” she asked after the rest of them’d joined her.

“Your guess on exactly what’s as good as mine,” Belle answered, surprising both men when she turned around with a lit cigarette in her hand.

“What’s that supposed to mean, though?” her mother asked as she took a seat and lit one of her own.

“Prolly better that we wait till we’re back inside,” the younger woman answered, surprising them again when she produced two more smokes and held them out to the pair of bassists, filters toward them. “Well, that’s if ya don’t wanna take any chances with the neighbors thinking we’re both nuckin’ futz, that is.”

“Miss Nancy ain’t even home,” Kat told her, glancing over at the house right in front of them. “And her son doesn’t appear to be, either. Course, neither of them ever seem to come outta that house unless they’re going somewhere, so I doubt they’d overhear, anywhore.”

“Well, starting at the Beginning, then,” she said before pausing for a drag off her smoke. “Me squawking before I came outta my room wasn’t a figment of your Imagination. I imagine you’d squawk, too, if ya woke up and were snuggled up to one guy with another spooning ya when ya knew you’d gone to bed alone.”

“Oh, no doubt about it,” the older woman agreed with a nod.

“My only halfway decent explanation–these two not only teleported, but Time Traveled in their sleep,” Belle continued, only to get a pair of snorts in response.

“Now _we’re_ starting to think you’re insane,” Bobby told her.

“Seriously–Time Travel’s something only Hollywood could cook up, and that was in _Back to the Future,”_ his younger counterpart agreed.

“Yeah, and that movie’s gonna get a part two in ’89, a part three in ’90,” her mother told them in a no-nonsense tone.

“Wait, what?” he asked. “1989 hasn’t even started yet–has it?”

“Oh, great,” she groaned, smacking the heel of her hand against her forehead. “These two had to’ve Time Traveled from sometime in ’88, if he’s asking that.”

Looking up at them, Kat asked what the last date they remembered was, and both looked thoughtful as they shoved their fingers into their adorably messy hair. The older bassist looked up and said he coulda sworn the calendar at the studio saying it was April twenty-sixth, but he might be off by a Day or two. Duff was quick to corroborate that, not to mention tack on that it was definitely 1988, ’cuz it was the date of his show in Iowa. His next wasn’t till the twenty-eighth in Wisconsin, which meant that today must be the one Day off he’d been scheduled to have in between shows.

Both women cast quick glances at each other, knowing they’d a lotta work to do, if they were gonna convince these two of their New Reality. That shared look wasn’t missed by either bassist, both of whom cocked their brows in suspicious Curiosity as they wondered what they were thinking. However, both were surprised when they were asked a single question that made not a lick of sense to either of them.

When they were told that neither Bobby, nor Duff knew what they were talking about when they asked where they were on September eleventh, 2001, they knew for sure this was no sick trick. Unless one was a toddler on that date, they’d at least vague memories of their whereabouts and what they were doing, considering how iconic that date was to every American still alive. Now they’d to figure out how they were gonna convince these two of what’d happened, and how much Times’d Changed in thirty Years, like it or not.


	3. Two

Back in the house, the pair of women settled on the couch–which was actually more so a pair of arm chairs separated by an antique trunk-turned-table–and gestured for the guysta settle in the floor at their feet. Shooting a quick look at each other, they both gave a nod that was as much to their musical counterpart as the pair of women. It took them a few momentsta settle their tall frames in the floor at their feet, which made them both feel like young boys awaiting story Time from their mother, or an older sister.

Kat grabbed something neither of them’d ever seen and aimed it toward the screen she’d been looking at before they went outside for that smoke. Neither young man could help jumping slightly, both unsure of what on Earth she was doing–till they suddenly heard the noise behind them Change. Turning to glance over their shoulders, they saw an obvious commercial of some sort on the screen, but it was for some product they’d never heard of before. Moments later, that commercial gave way to the logo of what was apparently a local news station, which quickly caught and held their attention.

Even Belle kept quiet as one of the lunchtime anchorwomen announced the date, the news station giving the broadcast, and the Time. As per usual, most of the stories they ran were–in her personal opinion–complete and utter bullshit, but she’d no Control over that kinda thing. She also knew what her mother’s Intent was by turning the TV onto the news since they both hated watching it, for it served a good purpose.

There was no way Bobby and Duff could deny what Year they were in anymore, even if they still found it a bit hard to completely process. After all, there was no way in any of the Nine Norse Worlds that a news station’d say they were in the Year 2018 if that wasn’t true. Whether the rest of what they were reporting was even remotely true or not, they didn’t know and didn’t really care since it was more so the sudden Change in Time period that concerned them more. Clearly, realizing that they weren’t in 1988 anymore was very much akin to Dorothy realizing she and Toto weren’t in Kansas anymore, as it were. It seemed that neither one was quite sure what to make of that, but they couldn’t Begin to help them with that part till they started talking.

“Jesus fuck, man,” Duff finally breathed when the twelve-thirty newscast Ended. He sounded like he was completely in shock and about to have a severe mental break.

“You’re telling me,” the older bassist said, sounding much the same.

“I can’t believe we _actually_ Time Traveled,” he told him, finally looking up as he shoved his hair back outta his face.

“Seems so surreal, to realize that it _really did_ happen,” Bobby agreed with a nod.

“At least you’re starting to process it.”

Looking up, they saw that Kat was aiming whatever was in her hand over their shoulders again, and the noise ceased with the press of a button as they turned back around to face her.

“Oh, I think it’s gonna take us a while to actually manage _that,”_ the younger bassist chuckled, still sounding shell-shocked.

“Of that, I’ve no doubt,” she laughed as the laid the thing in her hand down. “I’d be pretty shocked, too, if _my_ Past Self suddenly showed up in 2018, whether it totally rewrote history or not.”

“Wait, rewrote history?” Duff asked, looking confused.

“Well, think about it,” Belle piped up. “You’re _supposed_ to be in 1988, which means that things that were supposed to’ve happened might not’ve.”

“Or maybe they _did_ still happen, ’cuz their fifty-something-Year-old Selves’re where they’re supposed to be, in addition to the twenty-something versions sitting here in front of us,” her mother argued.

“Yeah, that’s definitely true,” she agreed, nodding. “Course, there’s one way to tell if at least _Poison’s_ history got totally rewritten or not.”

Cocking a brow, the pair of bassists watched as she rose from her seat and deftly stepped over Bobby’s shoulder so she could head into the kitchen. They heard some soft banging before she quickly moved toward her bedroom, and they only knew what room she was going to when they heard the Sound of her gate opening and closing. Neither’d a clue what she was up to, but they didn’t bother getting up to follow her and find out since they were sure they’d find out soon enough.

Moments later, Belle Returned to the living room with something in her hands, which she then handed to her mother. Her idea was to take whatever it was outta the frame that housed it, flip it over, and see what was printed on the back before showing it to these two. It certainly made sense and had merit, but the pair of bassists didn’t yet realize that as the older woman nodded and started opening the back of the frame.

Bobby caught a quick glimpse of the front as she flipped whatever it was over, and he noted that near the top was his band’s logo. It was a different shade of green than what it’d looked like on the one album they’d put out as of April, 1988, and it seemed to have a bit of a Shadow, of sorts. Said Shadow appeared to be in the same shade of yellow as whatever was printed across the bottom in what looked like someone’s actual handwriting, but mighta been just a really cool font. He couldn’t doubt that it was a record his band had put out, but he didn’t recognize the album title, nor the artwork that Graced the front. Maybe that was a good thing, but something told him that it was really bad, that history’d been rewritten as if he didn’t exist.

Looking back up at them, the mother-daughter duo seemed a bit surprised, but also like they weren’t surprised in the slightest. Kat gestured for the older bassist to move closer, which required him bracing a hand on Duff’s shoulder since he refused to sit in his lap. That was just too weird, even though he’d seen, done, and heard a lotta weird shit ever since moving to Los Angeles, and no doubt the same was true for the blonde. But even kneeling beside him and bracing his hand on his shoulder as he leaned forward so he could see better, there wasn’t any doubting what he saw.

“This album wasn’t released till May, 1988,” the older woman explained as she showed them the back of it. “As ya can see, Bobby’s pictured on it and given credits, but that could just be ’cuz this part of the sleeve’d already been printed by the Time y’all disappeared.”

“But I don’t recognize this,” Bobby told her, even as he took in the track listing also printed on the back. “I mean, I recognize the song titles, sure–but I couldn’t tell ya how they go, let alone play them for ya, if ya begged me to.”

“You’re fuckin’ shitting me,” the younger bassist breathed, his hazel eyes widening in shock.

“I mean, I seem to recall _Every Rose_ being started in a laundromat ’cuz Bret found out his girl was cheating on him, but most of the Time, I was too drunk to really pay attention,” he admitted, sounding a bit sheepish.

“That’s ’cuz that _is_ why that song got written,” Belle told them. “Chick’s name was Tracy something, but I’ve forgotten a lotta the fine details.”

Even Duff looked surprised as they turned their attention to her.

“I’m quite the Mötley and Poison nut–especially when it comesta their bassists,” she laughed. “Bite me, if y’all dare, ’cuz I bite back–and hard.”

“Okay, so you’ve a thing for bassists–noted,” they chuckled, then sobered up rather quickly.

“So, what else do ya know about that particular song?” Bobby asked curiously.

“Well, how to play the bass riff, for one thing,” the young woman answered with a grin. He couldn’t help but think she looked absolutely gorgeous, even with the slight wrinkles that appeared around her eyes, despite her apparent young age.

_“Oooh,_ now this, I’ve _gotta_ hear,” the younger bassist said, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

Letting out another laugh, Belle headed back to her bedroom once her mother’d settled the record back in its frame, which made them question that. While she was outta the room, they couldn’t help asking why on Earth the record had been framed in the first place, considering they hadn’t been brought completely up to speed yet. Her mother was more than happy to explain that–with the Changing Times–records weren’t actually listened to in most cases now, so they’d framed a few to use as wall Art in her daughter’s bedroom.

It turned out that the younger woman was more stuck in the eighties than her eighties-child mother when it came to her favorite bands. She’d several that she liked from more Modern Times, but most often, one’d catch her listening to Mötley Crüe, Poison, GN’R, and various other eighties bands. There were a select few–such as the first two in that list–that she’d listen to works they’d released in the nineties, but not very many.

Moments later, said younger woman Returned with her acoustic guitar, which they hadn’t even noticed her tuning in her room before she rejoined them. Settling on the couch where she’d been before, she turned herself so the head stock wouldn’t bump the couch and accidentally knock it outta tune. Once her left foot was tucked under her so she was comfortable, she grabbed some odd-looking device she’d pulled outta her pocket, plugged something into it, and monkeyed with it for a few moments. It was only then that she set the device down on the trunk-table beside her, her left hand already in position as she tapped it with a single finger. Belle was quick to move her right hand into position, clearly Intently focused as she looked down at her fret board.

The rhythm that suddenly started floating outta the guitar and to their ears was a bit too high-pitched, but didn’t sound anything like a typical rhythm riff. Since they were both musicians for a living, they knew it was only too high-pitched ’cuz it wasn’t being played on an actual bass. Both shared a look and were pretty quick to guess that they were both thinking she’d chosen the acoustic so it’d be easier for them to hear without having to lug her amp out to the living room. Beyond that, neither’d a single inkling as to why she’d choose to play a bass riff on something that’d make it sound easily an octave higher than it shoulda.

“Okay, I’m assuming ya chose to play that on your acoustic instead of your bass to make it easier to hear,” Duff said once she muted the strings.

“Eh, I just didn’t feel like lugging twenty-five pounds of amp out here, then having to readjust my volume once I got it plugged in,” she chuckled. “It’s set to right where I need it when I use ear budsta play, and I don’t wanna Change it so it’s not a bitch to undo later.”

“I guess that makes sense,” the older bassist agreed. “’Cuz that was _waaaay_ too high-pitched to be a bass riff, if it wasn’t for that reason.”

“Well, I was actually playing along with the song as it was recorded,” Belle told them. “I haven’t played it in a while, and I didn’t wanna mess up, if I didn’t have to.”

“Hey, I never said that I doubted that part,” Bobby told her. “It’s just–well, it’s fuckin’ surreal to hear something that I supposedly wrote, but don’t remember recording.”

“Totally understandable,” her mother said as she got up to Return her guitar to its stand.

“I mean, if it weren’t something I was in the middle of doing, I’m not too sure I’d remember releasing _Appetite_ and going on tour for it,” the younger bassist agreed with a shrug.

“Honestly, I could stand a drink,” he sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Well, that’s not happening under our watch.”

Looking up again, Bobby bit back an annoyed groan as he met the fiercely stern expression on his young hostess’ face.

“Look, the two of y’all’re in for some shit you’re not gonna like, if we letcha do that shit,” she told him as she settled back on the couch. This Time, she’d a book in her hand, but he couldn’t tell what it was since he couldn’t read the cover.

“Whaddaya mean?” Duff asked curiously, his head cocked like a puppy’s.

“Let’s just say that I’m surprised this actually exists, what with all this Time Travel shit, but it lends weight to my mom’s theory of both your twenty-something _and_ fifty-something-Year-old Selves existing in the same Time period at once,” Belle answered.

Neither were expecting her to hold up a book with a much older-looking Duff on the cover, sitting so his legs were spread and his elbows were resting on his thighs. His hands appeared to just hover between them, his fingers laced, and his expression looked like he was fighting a smirk, but also like the expectant look a parent who knew their child was lying’d given said child as they awaited the Truth. The whole picture was in black-and-white, and since both knew that Color pictures were a thing, they supposed that’d been done Intentionally when the book’d been printed.

Across the top in black block letters that stood out against the Silver banner were the words _New York Times Bestseller,_ which meant this book’d been out for a while. It was beneath a quote that read _A no-nonsense tale of true Hell and rock Heaven_ that they spied the title–and it looked every bit something like the younger bassist might choose as a book title.

In a font that almost looked like he’d scrawled it across a sheet of paper with a marker were the words _It’s So Easy (and Other Lies)_. She let the book’s author take it from her so he could get a better look, not surprised that his fellow bassist leaned closer to him to get a better look of his own. Even Kat didn’t look all that surprised at his shock, but she _did_ seem surprised that her daughter’d bust out this particular book. Then again, she never did anything like this rashly, so she knew she’d a damn good reason for doing it, anywhore.

“What the hell _is_ this?” the younger bassist asked, sounding shell-shocked again as he handed it back to her.

“Your autobiography, as per 2011,” Belle answered as she took it back from it. “It spans pretty much everything ya can remember from being a lil kid to what’s happened up to the Year I mentioned–even pretty much having your arm torn off while ya were Water-skiing as a kid.”

His eyes widened in pure shock, ’cuz as far as he knew, only his band knew about that incident–and it’d taken him Yearsta admit to them why his right arm looked fucked-up, even as an adult.

“Wait, did that _really_ happen?” the older bassist asked, turning slightly to look at him.

“Yeah–when I was about twelve,” Duff answered, sounding a bit absent as he recalled that horrific Day. “I was out on Lake Washington with a couple of my brothers and a couple of our friends. I can’t quite remember how it happened, but I remember that rope snapping taut around my arm and dragging me.”

Belle didn’t seem fazed by his first-hand account, but her mother certainly seemed horrified, which was prolly ’cuz she’d already read this book while said mother hadn’t.

“I also remember looking up at the Sky from under the Surface once I went under–but that wasn’t the only thing I saw,” he continued. “I saw the prettiest white Light, but something kept me here on this Plane. After that, we couldn’t afford to get my everything reattached properly, so my right arm looks fucked-up to this Day.”

Bobby couldn’t help a wince as he rolled up the sleeve of his borrowed shirt to prove his point, the only thing his arm really lacked being all the tats on it in the cover picture of his book.

“Well, I’ve a reason for busting out this book–and no, I’m not reading _all_ of it, ’cuz that’ll Change too much of history too drastically, not to mention be information overload,” the younger woman told them as she leaned back so she was comfy.

“I should hope you’re not gonna read all of it to ’em, if only for the second reason,” Kat told her with a stern look. “But the first one’s definitely a good reason _not_ to do that, too.”

Even as she flipped the book open and started skimming for the part she sought, she told her mother that she knew she couldn’t give away too much. They might eventually be able to Return to 1988, and if they did–well, what she was about to read to them’d Change enough on its own. Course, that was if he actually took his own wordsta heart and made an effort to Change what led up to these particular events before it was too late.

Both bassists put on their listening ears as Belle started reading, even the older woman listening Intently as she watched her. She seemed to have a way of capturing Emotions with her voice in a way that not many had, whether she was simply reading the ingredient list from canned goods, a book, or even singing. It was a gift that few actually possessed, but many Wished they had, which was a rare thing, especially amongst musicians and other recording artists. And while they’d normally have been impressed by that particular ability, they couldn’t help but be horrified due to the content of the passage she read to them.

Said passage talked of Duff’s own account of what led up to him winding up in the hospital again, this Time just a few months after reaching the age of thirty. He made her pause just long enough to reveal that he’d just turned twenty-four a couple months ago–well, he woulda, if they were still in 1988, that is. That meant that, if things continued the way they did in this book, he’d only about six more Years before this very thing was gonna happen to him.

Nodding, the younger woman Returned her gaze to the book she held and continued reading after giving them a warning that part of it was a bit graphic. That wasn’t her fault since she wasn’t the one who wrote it, no matter what Time period they were in, but rather just the one reading it. Bobby couldn’t help a shiver as she kept reading, but actually started to feel a lil nauseated once she got to the part where the blonde’d gotten his diagnosis. He couldn’t say that either of them were expecting her to read that he’d drank to the point that his pancreas’d literally exploded like a bomb, sending digestive enzymes cascading all over his internal organs and abdominal muscles, not to mention most likely his bones, too.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” they both breathed in unison. Both looked a bit green around the gills, so to speak, but were thankfully able to choke back anything that dared try to come up.

“My point exactly,” Belle said as she snapped the book shut with a finality that clearly said not to ask her to read anything else from it to them.

“That’s–well, fuckin’ sick, to be quite honest,” the older bassist managed to say.

“Unfortunately, it’s the Truth, as per the way history’d go without all this Time Travel business,” she told them.

Duff looked like he wanted to go running for the bathroom and purge even the slightest drop of alcohol still retained by his system.

“That being said, that’s why I, personally am putting the kibosh on drinking while you’re here,” the younger woman said. “If ya think ya can handle a couple shots here and there without going overboard, fine–I’m not gonna stop ya. But otherwise, you’re not getting a drop, even if I’ve gotta pour the vodka we’ve got for cleaning our vapes down the drain.”

“Now, that’s just alcohol abuse!” he chuckled, although it sounded a bit weak as he tried to inject a lil bit of humor into such a serious conversation.

“Maybe, but I’d rather abuse the alcohol than to findja dead in my bed or something.” Belle shrugged nonchalantly, but her words and action didn’t seem quite as flippant as she’d prolly been going for.

The older bassist couldn’t help but look a lil worried when she turned that intense Chocolate gaze on him next.

“Besides, unless it’s already happened–well, there’s a bit of _your_ history that I don’t have a book on that I’m sure we’d both rather prevent, if possible,” she said.

Bobby and Duff both listened Intently as she recounted what she’d read on something called the Internet–which she’d explain to them later–about how he’d suffered a neck-slash-back injury. He’d apparently herniated a couple discs between the fifth and seventh vertebrae of his cervical spine, which was considered the neck. It was so close to the upper back, though, that that was why many considered it more of a back injury than a neck injury, but that was beside the point.

The point was that, according to what she’d read online, the original injury’d taken place sometime in the late-eighties or early-nineties. He’d reportedly walked around in pain for roughly the next ten Years, knowing he was gonna need a disc replacement and spinal fusion at some point in the Future. Just the Thought of such suffering made him wince, but when she told them that she’d read it’d possibly been caused by a motorcycle or car wreck–in which alcohol coulda very well been involved, considering the Times and who it was–really made him wince as he reached up to cup the back of his neck. Neither one wanted to believe that such a thing might happen to him, but the look on her face told them that she wasn’t kidding.

What came next, in the Year 2001, was even worse–it was honestly just as bad as what’d happen to Duff, if he didn’t at least cut back on his drinking. The older bassist was reportedly playing a show on a Summer tour that pretty much all bands did by that Time, seemingly nothing beyond the usual wrong with him. He’d climbed up on his drummer’s riser like he did a lotta Times, rocking his heart out the whole Time, then made to jump back down to the stage. Again, that wasn’t outta the norm for him, even after getting dried out and going totally sober–but collapsing into a heap and not getting back up _was_ outta the norm.

It turned out that his landing’d ruptured those herniated discs, although he hadn’t known it immediately after that jump. When he’d curled up into the fetal position and failed to get back up, his band had known something was really wrong with him. However, it’d be nearly another week–when he was finally rushed to the hospital in agony and with weakness in his limbs–that he’d find out exactly what’d happened to him.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he breathed, those brown eyes so wide, they looked like they’d pop outta their sockets at any second.

“Whether ya ever Return to 1988 or not–although I’m hoping ya _do,_ if only for y’all’s sake–you’ll both be wise to heed my words,” Belle told them. “’Cuz I don’t wanna see that shit happen to either of y’all by any stretch of the Imagination, but there’s only so much I can do to stop it.”

“She’s right about that,” Kat agreed Sagely with a nod. “She can Enlighten y’all to this shit all she wantsta, but if the reasons why it happened’re rooted in your alcoholism, it’s up to y’all to Change _that_ part.”

“Well, I can’t and won’t speak for Bobby, but I’m _definitely_ Changing that part for myself,” the younger bassist declared. “And if I’ve gotta wind up in the hospital, fine–I’d rather wind up in the hospital from detoxing while I’ve still got Time than ’cuz I’m fighting for my Life.”

“Same here,” Bobby agreed with a nod of his own. “Granted, it’s no doubt gonna be hell till we’re used to living sober.”

“Hey, that’s most likely why y’all got dumped here with us,” the younger woman told them. “So you’d have a helping hand or four and someone to support y’all that’d actually be a _good_ Influence, rather than a _bad_ one.”

“Ya know, I didn’t think about it like that before,” the older bassist said thoughtfully.

“She’s definitely got a point, though,” Duff told him. “I mean, who else’d be willing to help us get clean and stay that way, rather than be trying to get us drunk and doped up again?”

“Definitely not our bands or management, _that’s_ for sure,” he dead-panned as he rolled his eyes.

“They’d prolly be the first onesta try steering y’all _off_ your Paths of sobriety,” the older woman told them.

Knowing that both women’d very valid points, neither bassist could find the Will to even try arguing with them about that now. They wanted to survive to see thirty without any serious, possibly Life-threatening injuries before then or even shortly afterward. If that meant they’d to get dried out while they were in 2018, then carry that habit back to 1988–if they were ever able to Return, that is–then they were willing to do it.

Belle and Kat both agreed that they’d prolly had enough of getting brought up to speed for the Day, especially when multiple stomachs started growling. That made them realize that they’d no clue when they last ate, which made both men blush furiously as that realization embarrassed them to no End. However, their embarrassment was eased a bit when the younger woman admitted that one of those growling stomachs’d been her own since she hadn’t eaten since the Night previously. She was notorious for eating only once in a twenty-four-hour period, so that wasn’t nearly as much of a surprise to her as what she’d woken up to.

Mother and daughter headed into the kitchen to start working on dinner after they all took another smoke break, which left the guys with some Time to themselves. Bobby and Duff both chatted quietly about trying to find a way to help out financially while they were here, if only ’cuz they were used to busting their asses instead of just sitting around. They weren’t quite sure exactly _how_ they were gonna do that, but that was something they’d talk over with their hostess and her mother, prolly sometime the following Day.


	4. Three

Upon waking the next Morn, Bobby and Duff were both more than a lil perturbed at realizing they’d been left to cuddle each other instead of being separated by at least a body pillow. Granted, both of them woulda preferred to be separated by the young woman they’d woken up to cuddling the previous Day, but at least they could be sure of one thing. Whatever Time Travel they’d experienced couldn’t have been some incredibly Realistic Dream they’d woken from, or they wouldn’t be in the same bed together now.

As soon as they opened the bedroom door–which’d been pulled shut from the outside–so they could take their Morn piss, they were greeted by the Sound of running Water from the kitchen. However, it wasn’t that Sound, but rather that of someone hitting some pretty high notes–even though they were humming–that caught their attention.

Sharing a quick look with one another, they nodded a Silent agreement to take turns with those Morn pisses, Bobby heading to the bathroom first. Maybe it was an unspoken agreement that since he was older, the blonde should have to respect his elders and wait his turn. Thankfully, he didn’t take very long to Return and gesture toward the End of the hall, which garnered him a nod as the younger bassist headed off. It was then that he peeked into the kitchen, unable to help a smile at the sight of their young hostess practically bouncing on her toes in rhythm to whatever she was listening to. He couldn’t hear any Music playing, but judging by the cord that was running up her back, that was ’cuz she’d some kinda headphones on.

Naturally, both were more than a bit surprised when she actually started belting out the song she was listening to as Duff Returned from the bathroom. Quick to pull him back toward her door so she wouldn’t see them, if she turned around, the older bassist motioned for him to keep quiet. He whispered that he didn’t think she could hear them, but there was no reason to startle the living Daylights outta her by just suddenly appearing when she was mid-note. Luckily, his musical counterpart was quick to nod his agreement as they merely leaned back against the wall to listen, barely stifling chuckles at the lyrics they heard.

_“My heart is paralyzed, my head was over-sized_ – _I’ll take the high road like I should,”_ Belle sang, surprising them both with how beautiful a voice she possessed. _“You said it's meant to be, that it’s not you, it’s me_ – _you're leaving now for my own good… That's cool, but if my friends ask where you are, I'm gonna say…”_

Bobby Silently cocked a brow at the younger bassist as they continued listening, neither expecting what they heard next.

_“She went down in an airplane, fried getting suntanned, fell in a cement mixer full of quicksand… Help me, help me_ – _I’m no good at goodbyes!”_ she continued, easily hitting even the highest notes. _“She met a Shark underwater, fell and no one caught her_ – _I Returned everything I ever bought her… Help me, help me_ – _I’m all out of lies…and waysta say you died…”_

Even Duff was fighting cracking up, neither realizing it was gonna get even better from there.

_“My Pride still feels the sting_ – _you were my everything… Someday, I'll find a Love like yours_ – _a Love like yours… She’ll think I’m Superman, not super minivan_ – _how could you leave on Yom Kippur? That's cool, but if my friends ask where you are, I’m gonna say…”_

“Oh, dear God,” the older bassist whisper-laughed. “I’m not sure how much longer I can fight this laughter.”

“Me, either,” his musical counterpart agreed almost Silently.

_“She was caught in a mudslide, eaten by a Lion, got run over by a crappy purple Scion! Help me, help me_ – _I’m no good at goodbyes!”_ the young woman continued effortlessly. _“She dried up in the Desert, drowned in a hot tub, danced to Death at an East Side Night club! Help me, help me_ – _I’m all out of lies…and waysta say you died!”_

At that point, both of them were biting their wriststa stifle their laughter at the hilariously ridiculous lyrics, even though they were pretty sure she wouldn’t have heard them.

_“I wanna live a thousand Lives with you, I wanna be the one you’re dying to love_ – _but you don't want to,”_ Belle continued to the audible tune of dishes clacking together as she did hell-only-knew what with them. _“That’s cool, but if my friends ask where you are, I’m gonna say… That’s cool, but if my friends ask where you are, I’m gonna say…”_

By this point, Bobby was practically dragging the blonde down with him as he leaned against his slightly taller frame, which was leaning against the wall outside her bedroom door.

_“She went down in an airplane, fried getting suntanned, fell in a cement mixer full of quicksand! Help me, help me_ – _I’m no good at goodbyes! She met a Shark underwater, fell and no one caught her_ – _I Returned everything I ever bought her! Help me, help me_ – _I’m all out of lies!”_ the young woman belted out.

They weren’t quite sure how much more of this they could take and hoped she was closing in on the End of the song so they could finally erupt into gut-splitting laughter.

_“She was caught in a mudslide, eaten by a Lion, got run over by a crappy purple Scion! Help me, help me_ – _I’m no good at goodbyes! She dried up in the Desert, drowned in a hot tub, danced to Death at an East Side Night club! Help me, help me_ – _I’m all out of lies…and waysta say you died…”_

Belle hummed the last few notes of whatever song she’d been listening to, the Sound of the running Water dying moments later. The pair of bassists continued fighting their laughter till they finally heard her heave a relieved sigh and start muttering to herself, which was when they finally lost their shit. Holding their sides as Duff started sliding down the wall, taking the older bassist with him since he was still leaning on him, they were glad they’d already pissed as they completely cracked up.

The startled shriek that rang outta the kitchen only made them laugh even harder, even as the young woman appeared over them with a pretty big knife in her hand. Course, when she saw that it was just the idiots she’d left in her bed, she slammed said knife down on whatever was just inside the doorway with a distinctly foreign Curse. She was quick to shove her hair back outta her face since she hadn’t tied it up in a ponytail or anything while she was doing the dishes, a glare aimed at them. Despite her best efforts, though, she couldn’t help at least cracking a smile at the sight of them tangled up like a human pretzel, faces buried against one another as they laughed so hard, they could barely breathe.

Eventually, both bassists were able to Calm down so they could breathe, let alone untangle themselves from that human pretzel they’d gotten themselves into. They both looked up at her, Pearly-white teeth gleaming in twin shit-eating grins that made her roll her eyes and groan–despite her own continued smirk–since it told they told her all she needed to know without even having to ask.

“I know y’all heard me, ya dorks,” she said as she turned to head back into the kitchen.

“Kinda hard _not_ to, what with the way ya were belting that out,” Duff chuckled, hauling himself up before reaching down to the older bassist.

“Why didn’tcha say ya could sing like that, girl?” he asked as he was hauled up so they could follow her.

“I don’t normally sing in front of others, especially if I don’t know ’em very well,” Belle answered, her voice a bit muffled.

Getting into the kitchen, they saw her leaning around the other side of the fridge to grab something–which happened to be a broom and dust pan–and realized why she’d sounded muffled.

“Well, I think ya oughta get over that habit, personally,” the younger bassist told her. He crossed his arms as he butted a hip against the counter in front of the sink.

“Seriously,” Bobby agreed, leaning back against the counter next to him. “I’d almost say ya could outdo even Bret, if ya put your mind to it.”

“I already know I can outdo even Bret,” she laughed. “I mean, I can sound identical to him on certain Poison songs, if I really wanna.”

“There’s no way,” the older bassist said. “Not with the high notes ya were just hitting, that is!”

“So I’ve an extremely versatile voice,” Belle told him with a grin. “It’s called having a karaoke voice, genius.”

“Well, what else can ya do?” Duff asked curiously. “’Cuz now, you’ve got me curious.”

“Mimic your part of _It’s So Easy_ like it’s nothing,” the young woman answered without missing a beat.

“Now, this I’ve gotta hear as much as that bass riff from yesterday,” he chuckled.

Clearly taking that as a challenge, she grabbed whatever device she’d used to listen to _Every Rose_ as she was playing it the previous afternoon. The next thing she grabbed was something that played some kinda weird rhythm when she turned it on so that a blue Light was visible once she turned it around again. She kept a hand pressed to the top of it to muffle the noise, which continued after a few seconds as a handful of beeps before it fell Silent.

Moments later, Duff heard his few opening notes of the song in question, and he started listening just as Intently as the older bassist. The young woman set the devices down on the counter, and he was just as enthralled by how–when combined like they were–they played the song without any wires, let alone records, as he was by her singing. And if he’d said her singing was anything short of phenomenal, he’d have to hold to an unmade promise of cutting his own tongue out. She was able to sing even Axl’s lead part in more of his key than not, but on the parts where even his vocals were more prominent, she was able to mimic him as if it was nothing as she swept the kitchen.

Bobby couldn’t help being just as spellbound as the younger bassist was, his eyes wide as he listened to her sing like they weren’t even there. He actually found himself crossing his legsta hide what that utterly magickal voice was doing to him, and a quick glance at his musical counterpart proved him to be having the same reaction. That made him snicker softly, although the blonde still heard him, but he was a bit relieved to know that he wasn’t alone in having that reaction. It actually brought him a lil Peace of Mind since he’d actually never had such a thing happen to him in his Life, no matter who he’d heard singing.

“I think it’s safe to say that we’d both be idiots, if we saidja were lying about being able to mimic me,” the younger bassist chuckled, unable to help squirming a bit.

“Just like I think we’d all be idiots, if we said my singing didn’t have a _certain effect_ on both of y’all,” Belle snickered as she moved to start sweeping other rooms, starting with the bathroom.

_“Uhhhh…”_ they drawled in unison, wide hazel eyes meeting equally wide Chocolate eyes.

“Don’t think I didn’t see y’all cross your legs,” she called down the hallway. “Or know _why_ y’all crossed ’em!”

“Fuckin’ seriously?” the older bassist groaned, his face heating up in embarrassment.

“Hey, I know I’ma Siren, in a way,” the young woman laughed. “That’s part of why I don’t tend to sing in front of just anyone.”

“Really, now?” Duff asked, a bit of a nonplussed tone to his voice.

“Well, I tend to get really bad stage fright, believe it or not.” Belle made sure to raise her voice loud enough to be heard in the kitchen since they’d made no move to follow her. “But you’re not the first guys I’ve inadvertently turned on simply by singing. The higher the notes I hit, the worse it seemsta get for the guys, it seems.”

“I’m kinda scared to ask how ya know that,” the brunette bassist mused, squirming slightly as he Willed away his embarrassment.

“’Cuz a former best friend happened to be male and had that happen to him just about every Time I’d open my mouth, especially when I’d get to singing an Evanescence song,” she told them, grinning from the bathroom doorway.

“Evanescence?” he asked, looking confused.

“It’s a band that won’t come out till 2003, were y’all still in 1988,” the young woman explained. “They’re fronted by a woman named Amy Lee, and she’s a helluva set of pipes on her, so to speak.”

“I’m kinda curious now,” the younger bassist told her, shifting his own weight slightly.

Once she Returned to the kitchen so she could dump her dust pan, Belle grabbed the lil device that was totally glass on the front. After a few moments, she’d picked a song that was a pretty hard rocker, no doubt to try and stick as close to their tastes as she could with something that was a lot more Modern than anything they’d ever heard before. They weren’t too keen on the piano intro, but then again, both their bands’d used piano in a few songs, even if it wasn’t nearly as classical-sounding as this.

Bobby and Duff were both amazed by the insanely-high notes she was able to hit as she started singing along to this one, too as she leaned back against the counter a couple feet from the former. They were even higher than the song that’d sent them both to the floor in stitches outside her bedroom door, but it was somehow even more beautiful.

Even the lyrical content–which suggested being suicidal, unless they were complete idiots–couldn’t really faze them as they took in the Melodies and rhythms of the song. Neither’d ever heard a woman sing like this, and they weren’t talking about the way the leading lady she was singing along to had when she’d originally tracked the vocals. There was a raw, Emotional Power to this young woman’s voice–even her expressions as she moved through the song–that couldn’t be matched by much of anyone. Axl, Bret–pretty much any guy they could think of that they’d heard sing before or dared try to match her wouldn’t have been able to, no matter what they did.

When she finally cut off that last note, Belle sounded a bit hoarse when she chuckled, which told them that she technically wasn’t supposed to be able to shoot up that high. Or maybe it was ’cuz she was a smoker, ’cuz they both knew that smoking could do some serious damage to the Sound of one’s voice, among other things. But they were surprised by just how quick she was able to recover so that she didn’t sound the slightest bit hoarse, which they added to their growing list of special abilities she possessed. Even they couldn’t manage to recover _that_ quickly, and Bret and Axl damn sure couldn’t, which’d prolly surprise just about anybody.

“Jesus fuck, girl,” the older bassist chuckled, once again squirming as he tried to Will away his embarrassment.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard even Axl sing like that,” Duff agreed, squirming just as much.

“I’m starting to think I need to quit and run one of y’all upstairs while the other heads off for a shower,” she laughed, her grin downright devious.

Neither one could help their face turning an almost identical shade of red as the other’s.

“Hey, I don’t blame ya for liking my singing, no matter _how_ it Manifests,” Belle told them. “But I don’t care how things’re done in the eighties–I don’t sleep with just anyone simply ’cuz I think they’re hot.”

“Really?” Bobby asked, glad to be given something else to focus on. “’Cuz no offense, but we’re both used to girls almost literally throwing themselves at us.”

“Well, I’m not saying that neither of y’all’re attractive, by any means,” the young woman responded. “But I don’t want a guy for just his cock, or even his wallet–which’s saying something, considering I’m unemployed and broke, so you’d think I’d actually _want_ a sugar daddy.”

Even the younger bassist’s eyes widened in surprise as he listened, taking note of how vehement her tone turned.

“Normally, I like my guys older than me–I’m talking, more like your fifty-something versions’ ages,” she revealed. “But regardless of the age of the guy in question, there’s three things I want a guy for–the same things I want _him_ to want _me_ for.”

“And what’re those things?” Duff asked, sounding just as apprehensive as he did curious.

“His mind, heart, and Soul,” Belle answered without the slightest hesitation.

Both bassists looked surprised before sharing a look with each other, ’cuz this was the very kinda girl they eventually wanted to wind up with, not some slut who burned through their money as quick as they could make it.

“When ya think about it, Intelligence, Love, and a kind, caring Soul go a lot further than money and sex,” the young woman said. “Gods know I’ve been used for nothing but pussy before, and I’m not going back there. I’ll stay what amountsta a celibate monk–if ya don’t count the use of sex toys, that is–before I wind up with even another one-Night stand, let alone _that_ kinda relationship.”

“Kinda can’t blame ya there,” the younger bassist sighed as he shifted his weight again.

“Yeah, ’cuz while sex’s fun and all, it’s not gonna sustain one forever,” Bobby agreed. “And the loneliness isn’t exactly something I wanna deal with for the rest of my Life, myself.”

“I’d rather have a strong Emotional connection with someone eventually,” his musical counterpart added. “’Cuz yeah, I can manage with just sex till I find that person, but not forever.”

“Then what makes y’all think _I’m_ any different?” Belle asked, her brow cocked curiously and a hip jutted out to the side. “’Cuz I agree with all your points just as much as y’all seem to agree with mine.”

Duff chuckled as he assured her that a chick who actually had morals wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially when they were used to chicks who didn’t seem to have any at all. The fact that she was actually trying to help them after they’d been dumped in a completely different Time period instead of having them arrested or dragged off to a looney bin was a definite plus. He honestly had to do a double-take, as did Bobby, when her face appeared to turn a Light shade of pink at his words, ’cuz she hadn’t seemed like the type of embarrass very easily.

Even as they jumped in to help her with the housework she’d obviously been tackling before they got up, they couldn’t help but feel a pull to her like they’d never felt to anyone else. They didn’t notice her catching the looks they gave her, then the other as they felt a certain competitiveness like what they felt with their band mates a lotta Times. Certainly neither caught her laughing to herself as they already seemed to compete to win her heart, considering a significant part of her personality she hadn’t yet revealed to them.

By the End of the Night after Kat’d Returned from work, they’d gotten the entire house cleaned up, not to mention gotten the yard mowed. That’d actually sparked an idea the bassists’d decided to run past their young hostess, as far as being able to help financially went. When she’d said they’d an elderly neighbor she normally mowed the yard of since her husband passed, they’d mentioned actually starting a full-on yard-mowing business. Duff and Bobby both were determined to help contribute financially, and their idea’d actually be a good one, considering one major factor they hadn’t thought of yet. Neither could prove who they were, especially if their fifty-something versions still existed, ’cuz they wouldn’t be able to get so much as a driver’s license.

Kat even agreed to let them use her mower and any other yard equipment they owned, as long as they kept them maintained–repaired, if something broke–and replaced the gas in them. It’d help bring in money without them having to commit a crime, not to mention get Belle off her ass more since she wasn’t having any Luck with finding an actual job.

The young trio went to bed in Belle’s room with giddiness in their hearts and Souls, the young woman sammiched between the pair of bassists again. While part of them hoped they’d eventually be able to go back to 1988, another part of them hoped they never did and wound up stuck in 2018. Or if they wound up going back, that this beautiful young woman’d pick one of them to be with as a Life partner and get to go back with them. There was just something about her that they didn’t wanna give up, ’cuz it was something that was hard to find in any decade, even if they couldn’t quite put their finger on what _it_ was. But for the moment, they were content to merely cuddle with her as they slept, all of them in pretty much identical positionsta how they’d woken up just the Day before as they slowly drifted off to sleep.


	5. Four

The next four months or so certainly weren’t the easiest of Bobby’s or Duff’s Lives, but they’d both been through harder Times than this before. It might suck to have to rely on either of their hostessesta buy their smokes, considering that–in 2018–their licenses were long since expired, but that was the least of their problems. At least they still had a way to get smokes and anything else that required the use of ID, even if they couldn’t vote since they couldn’t even register to. Neither admitted it aloud, but they were both intelligent enough to realize they could have things far worse than they did at the moment.

But while they’d been trapped thirty Years into the Future with no way back _home,_ the pair of bassists’d managed what a lotta folks back then woulda deemed impossible. Not only had they managed to get completely sober, but they’d both managed to win the Love of the younger woman. It was like a polyamorous rewrite of the now-classic Disney movie–not to mention the story it was based on–so there was still one Beauty, but two Beasts.

Naturally, both guys’d been surprised outta their wits when Belle’d finally had enough of their constant, if unconscious competition with each other. They hadn’t been expecting her to finally snap one Day while her mother was at work and tell them that they both’d a chance with her, but neither were gonna actually get it, if they kept on. Both blonde and brunette’d been confused by that, which’d led to her explaining what polyamory was to them, and how she expected it to be practiced, if she ever tried it. They hadn’t been quite sure what to make of sharing their girlfriend with each other like siblings’d share a toy, and it’d taken them a while to mull over the idea and decide that it was worth a shot.

However, over the past four months, they’d come to realize that–while it might be a bit weird to be swapping spit and having sex with each other in a roundabout way–it was totally worth it. Not only did it give them both what they wanted in terms of winding up with the girl of their Dreams, but it actually Strengthened the bond forming between the two of them even more, too.

“I gotta say, it’s definitely been weird to share a girlfriend,” Duff chuckled. He and the older bassist were chilling in the back yard while their shared girlfriend slept in since she hadn’t gotten to bed till pretty late.

“What about the _entirety_ of this experience _hasn’t_ been weird, though?” he laughed in response as he stubbed out a smoke.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” the younger bassist agreed. “I mean, we kinda _were_ just picked up and tossed into a completely different decade without even knowing what was going on.”

“And not just that, but one where our _older_ Selves still exist, too,” Bobby pointed out. “When ya remember all that, I’m not too sure that sharing a girlfriend’s the weirdest thing we’ve ever gotten into or had happen to either of us.”

“Amen to that,” he laughed. “Even if said girlfriend’s a literal Witch who won’t put up with any bullshit any more than her mother will.”

“If that isn’t the Truth, I dunno what is,” the older bassist agreed with a chuckle.

Both’d been curious about their hostesses’ chosen religion when they kept using phrases like _Oh, Goddess_ and _Sweet Lady_ in addition to more familiar phrases. Neither of them’d expected to find out that Kat’d been Pagan since roughly the _Look What the Cat Dragged in, Appetite for Destruction,_ and _Open Up and Say…Ahh!_ eras. They certainly hadn’t expected to learn that her daughter’d eventually followed in her footsteps after some serious Soul-searching’d led her to realize that she musta always been Pagan, but too in-denial to truly see it when she was younger.

However, mother and daughter’d their differences in even their chosen religion, much like a lotta other things in their Lives. While the older woman’s strongest Element was that of Earth, Belle’s was that of Air, their respective Secondaries being Water and Fire. Mother seemed to love things like Dragons, despite her Primary Element, while her daughter seemed to be in Love with all things Fae and Elves.

Another major difference was that while her mother’d actually do spell work from Time to Time, the younger woman avoided it like the plague. According to Kat, one didn’t Control magick, they Influenced it–and in completely lacking the Confidence she needed when even attempting a spell, it was a bad idea for Belle to do even the simplest spell. How it could potentially backfire depended on the Energy she poured out as she did the spell, but she considered that to be too risky when she could hurt herself–or worse yet, someone like one or both of the bassists. She didn’t wanna take that kinda chance, and whether at her mother’s advice, her own choice, or a lil bit of both, she simply chose not to partake in spell work.

The next biggest difference that Bobby and Duff’d learned about mother and daughter was a bit of a surprise, considering both their chosen forms technically fell under the Element of Earth. Kat was a big herbalist, to the point that she’d the proverbial green thumb when it came to growing just about anything from her own food and herbsta simple Flowers. Her daughter’d the proverbial black thumb, but specialized in Crystals and their various Energies, even though Crystals were of the Earth as much as plants were.

“There’s just something about the Energies of various Crystals that appealsta me,” she’d told them. “I guess it’s ’cuz–kinda like Sound–they use the Air as their mode of transportation.”

Neither one could really deny that when they sat and thought about it, and that made them both almost always wanna do whatever they could to join in on their girlfriend’s Pagan studies. Thanksta the money they earned through their small landscaping business–hastily Created, though it was–they’d even helped her add to the various books she’d been accumulating. Any book that she wasn’t reading at any given Time, one of them’d normally be curled up with their nose stuck in when they weren’t working.

Whether they necessarily agreed with Paganism as a religion or not, both bassists were highly fascinated by the things they read. They’d never really put any Thought into how even the other Planets of their Solar System could affect not only themselves, but those around them. But after reading a book called _Star Magick,_ they couldn’t help but wonder just how much the Planets _really_ affected every living being on this one.

“Ya know,” the younger bassist said, bringing his musical counterpart outta his musings as he stubbed out his own smoke. “Whether we ever go back to 1988 or not–and get to take Belle with us, if we do–I think this stuff I’ve learned from her Pagan books is gonna be one thing I take back with me.”

“Yeah, can’t say I disagree there, man,” Bobby agreed with a nod. “A lotta it–like the meditation, as well as the Grounding and Centering–might just come in handy on tour.”

“Seriously, ain’t that the fuckin’ Truth?” he laughed. “’Cuz I dunno how your band is when you’re on the road, but I know _mine’s_ fuckin’ crazy.”

“Oh, Poison can get just as crazy when we wanna,” the older bassist chuckled. “CC swears I’ve hit him with my bass–whether I meant to or not–no less than a dozen Times, and I’ve been known to have to get fansta take me to my next tour stop when I ran off with them.”

“Can’t beat the _Hell Tour_ I managed to throw together for Guns before we got signed,” Duff playfully argued. “I mean, we broke down a hundred miles outta LA, missed all but the last show we’d scheduled, and almost burnt the venue down when the guy refused to pay us at the End of it all.”

“Okay, yeah–that’s _definitely_ pretty fuckin’ crazy,” he agreed, grinning. “Makes me miss the eighties even more, but hey–we’re not doing too bad right now, and I guess that’s what really matters.”

“I’d drink to that, if either of us was still a drinking man,” the younger bassist chuckled.

It wasn’t but a couple seconds after he closed his mouth that they heard the kitchen Storm door bang shut, and both turned to look up the walkway that led to it. Belle was yawning adorably as she clutched her phone and smokes in one hand, the leash of her mother’s Dog in the other, and made her way to the back yard. Said Dog’d been asleep when they’d gotten up and hadn’t responded to their calls of his name, so they’d just decided to leave him be. Even though he seemed to be friendly enough, they weren’t gonna take their chances with Mason deciding to bite them–even four months after they’d first shown up–since he’d quite a bit of German Shepherd blood in him.

After she’d turned the Dog loose to do his thing and just enjoy some outdoor Time, the young woman joined her boyfriends at the umbrella-shaded table. She was more than happy to give both a _good-Morn_ kiss, as it were, once she’d settled between them so she could grab one’s hand while stretching out to use the other as a foot rest. Neither young man bothered trying to argue who got which Honor, ’cuz if there was one thing she was, it was just and fair–she made sure both got each Honor as evenly as possible.

“Ya sleep good, sweetheart?” Bobby asked, knowing she didn’t tend to talk much pre-coffee.

_“Mmm hmm,”_ the young woman hummed, nodding as she settled a smoke between her lips. “Once I finally got to sleep, that is.”

“What keptcha up?” her younger, blonde boyfriend asked, genuinely concerned.

“Just couldn’t sleep since I’m still getting my magnesium up from where I was off it last week,” Belle answered once she’d lit said smoke. “Insomnia’s one of the big indicators that one’s a magnesium deficiency, after all.”

_“Ahhhh.”_ They both nodded, the older bassist getting the Honor of holding her hand while Duff was used as a foot rest.

“So, it’s one of those things that’ll straighten itself out in Time?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Yeah, it’ll slowly disappear as I get my magnesium levels back up to where they should be,” Belle answered. “Usually takes about a week, if I’ve been off it for a while, though.”

“Well, I guess that’s a good thing since it could definitely take longer,” both agreed reluctantly.

“Personally, I won’t be happy till ya can sleep like you’re supposed to again,” Duff grumbled, lighting another smoke of his own. “Preferably between us, if you’re not having a dirty Night with one of us.”

All three of them burst into laughter, starting with the young woman, who all but choked on the drag she’d been taking when he said that. This was just one of the reasons she loved both of these bassists equally–they’d their own unique senses of humor, but they were still both pretty similar to her own. She could crack just about any kinda joke, even the dirty variety, and have a beer with these two like the girl-next-door she was. With most others, she’d to bite her tongue till it bled–if only in a metaphorical sense–so she wouldn’t necessarily offend somebody without meaning to.

Once they’d finally Calmed down, they managed to enjoy their smokes without choking on them, Mason lazing in the Sun like he often did when he was outside. Since none of them knew if or when Bobby and Duff’d get to Return to 1988, they always made the most of their Time as if it were the last moment they’d get together. Considering how the Fates could be at Times, each moment might very well be their last–and if the young woman didn’t get to go back with them, they didn’t wanna go back with any regrets.

It was a few hours later, as they were lounging around the living room with Kat after dinner, that all four of the humans started to get the oddest sensation. Mason and even the Cats, Jezebel and Apollo, were all starting to bow up as if they were sensing something unseen by the humans’ eyes. Animals were notorious for such behavior when Spirits were present, but something about this Energy shift didn’t feel like a Spirit to them.

They weren’t expecting something akin to a wormhole to suddenly open up in the middle of the living room so they couldn’t see the TV through it. Even as they stared at the slowly-spinning Vortex within that looked like a Galaxy with a clock face in the middle of it, they certainly weren’t expecting what looked like a humanoid figure to step outta it. All of their jaws dropped as a pair of pale hands appeared from the sleeves of whatever the person was wearing–a Ceremonial robe, if the Witches weren’t mistaken–and reached up to throw back its heavy hood. Bobby and Duff were confused, though, when said Witches gasped in utter shock and moved to bow in a sign of Respect like they were in the presence of the British Monarch.

“Rise, my fair and ever-loyal Ladies,” the figure–which they could now tell was a third woman–said. Her voice sounded far more magickal than they’d have expected, but also held even more of an edge to it than their younger hostess’ voice did.

“What on Earth?” the older bassist muttered, looking confused as he watched Kat and Belle rise from where they knelt on one knee, one fist clenched behind their backs while the other was pressed over their hearts.

“Shut up, or I won’t stop her from trying to drag ya onto a battlefield–literal _or_ figurative,” Belle hissed just barely loud enough for him to hear.

Even the younger bassist took the hint and kept his mouth shut as he stared at this third woman, hazel eyes wide with confused Awe.

“I shan’t drag them onto a battlefield, dear young one,” the unidentified woman laughed. “But drag them elsewhere, I unfortunately will.”

“Wait, what?” Duff asked, unable to bit his tongue any longer.

The woman turned her attention to the two men, eyes roving as if sizing them up. “Gentlemen, the Time’s come for ya to Return from whence ya came.”

Both their eyes widened and their jaws dropped as they realized what she meant–that they were going back to 1988 at last.

“What about Belle, though?” Bobby asked. His voice was tight with worry, as if he didn’t wanna leave her, but couldn’t wait to get back to where he belonged, either.

“Yeah, she’s done so much for us,” his blonde counterpart agreed. “I mean, so’s her mother, but she’s been around more than Kat since Kat usually hasta work a lot more.”

“That’s where I come in, and I think these two’ve already figured out how, not to mention the significance,” she laughed, her Dark eyes twinkling in the dim lamplight.

Even though they were both confused, they somehow got the feeling they shouldn’t ask this woman to explain, that she’d do so in her own good Time. There was also something else that told them she was a powerhouse, maybe even a bit of a battle axe, that shouldn’t be fucked with under any circumstances. Kat and Belle didn’t look afraid of her, _per sé,_ but they certainly looked a bit wary as they kept their attention on her, their bodies in what the military’d call the _at ease_ position.

Neither bassist could resist the urge to squirm under this woman’s laser-intense gaze, which felt like she was looking right through them and straight into their very Souls. If they’d known who she was, what she ruled over, and the significance of all that–well, they wouldn’t have been surprised, if they’d found out she _really was_ looking into their very Souls. But while they’d learned a lot about Paganism in recent months, there was so much that it’d take a while for just about anyone to memorize it all. They were both drawing a blank on something particularly important that both their hostesses’d explained to them, as was all-too-common in the heat of the moment.

“Gentlemen, allow me to introduce myself,” the third woman finally said. “As the Celtic Goddess of War, Death, Fate, Sovereignty, and many other things, many know me as _the Morrígan.”_

Bobby and Duff both gasped, jaws dropping again as they, too moved to bow before her, now recalling what they’d been told about this powerhouse of a Goddess.

“Rise, for there’s no need to bow before me,” she laughed.

“Forgive me for maybe being a bit too forward, MiLady, butcha didn’t have anything to do with us being catapulted forward thirty Years, didja?” the younger bassist asked curiously.

“Nay, child–that was the work of my husband, the Dagdha,” Morrígan chuckled. “He’s oft a bit too rowdy, as if he’s imbibed too much ale when he really hasn’t, although not quite as much a trickster as the Norse Loki.”

“He’s pretty much where the phrase _good God_ came from,” their younger hostess told them. “He’s generally pretty benevolent, for having a club so big that one End hasta be pushed around in something akin to a wheelbarrow.”

“Then why would he catapult us into 2018 with no warning?” the older bassist asked.

“To teach the two of ya lessons ya wouldn’t have learned otherwise till it was almost too late.”

Sharing a look with each other, the pair of bassists’d to think about the Morrígan’s response for a minute before her meaning Dawned on them. No doubt she was talking about at least curbing their drinking, if not getting completely sober, before it at least caused serious bodily harm. But unless they were mistaken, her only other meaning’d have to be learning the same lessons as Beast–to love and earn Love in Return.

Maybe there were more reasons than that, but those were really the only ones they could think of off the tops of their heads as they turned wide hazel and Chocolate eyes back to her. This’d been _their_ Time of schooling, as it were–Belle’d only gotten dragged into it by them appearing in her bed after their Time Travel. Or maybe she’d been chosen as their Guide and teacher in all this ’cuz she actually cared about both of them, even before they’d fallen in Love. After all, few possessed the Patience it took to get through to folks as wild as they were, let alone in a way that’d actually stick with them for Life.

“With good comes the bad, with Light comes the Shadow,” Morrígan said, effectively grabbing their attention again. “With choice comes reward, and with reward comes choice.”

Somehow, they all got the feeling that whatever she was about to tell them was gonna be a doozy.

“In reward for her loyal service, Belle now has a choice to make,” she continued, making every pair of eyes in the room widen.

“WhyddaI get the feeling this is gonna be a doozy?” Duff asked to no one in particular, voicing what was on all their minds.

“’Cuz it _is_ a doozy, as ya say,” the Goddess before them laughed. “But only as much as she makes it, really.”

“Oh, boy,” Belle sighed, even as her boyfriends both wrapped an arm around her in a supportive, yet possessively protective gesture. “Well, lay it on me, I guess.”

“Your loves’re to Return from whence they came–there’s naught I can do to Change that, now that they’ve learned some of their most important lessons,” Morrígan stated with a finality that left no room for argument. “Your choice’s simple, yet complicated–go with them and retain the Love you’ve striven for these last few months, or remain here and hope thatcha reunite with their older Selves eventually, and that those older Selves remember who ya are, whatcha did for them, and whatcha share together.”


	6. Five

Belle felt like she’d just been sucked into the Vortex opened up by the legendary Elvin Power, transference, as her ears started ringing and her vision went a bit gray. Surely this Goddess–one she’d consider a Patron Goddess for herself any Day of the week–was pulling her leg with what she’d just told them. Never in her Life’d she expect to get a chance like this, never mind have it actually happen–that old adage about something being too good to be true meaning it usually was came to mind here.

Worried when he realized their shared girlfriend had actually stopped breathing, she was so shocked, Bobby gave her a gentle smack on the ass to get her attention. Normally, she’d at least turn a dirty look on him and/or the younger bassist on her other side, if they did that outside a sexual situation where she actually wanted it. This Time, all she did was suck in a breath so sharp, he was surprised she didn’t choke on her own spit as a result, but was glad she was breathing again. Even the pair of blondes in the room with them were looking concerned up to that point, then relieved when she sucked in that sharp breath. But since none of them could read her mind, they wondered just what her Thoughts on the matter were while the Morrígan looked like she already knew.

Turning her attention to the Goddess in question again, the young woman showed her typical skeptical Nature when told something she didn’t quite believe. Duff couldn’t really blame her for wanting to be sure this wasn’t some kinda sick trick meant to get her Hopes up, only for them to be dashed, but thought she didn’t have to be quite that harsh about it. Luckily, the Mysterious Goddess before them seemed to be used to this kinda behavior, for she didn’t seem to take any offense at her question. Rather, she seemed to do quite the opposite–find it amusing that she wanted clear verification before she made a decision on what to do.

Kat could see the wheels in her daughter’s head turning once she was assured that this was no sick trick, that she _really did_ have the choice of going back to 1988 with her boys, or staying in the Present. Part of her wondered which option she’d pick, but at the same Time–as her mother and knowing her better than she thought–she’d a feeling she already knew. And something about that particular Empathic answer made her heart shatter as she died a lil inside, not that she’d ever outwardly show such Emotions. It was almost like she’d already lost the rest of her family–Death, in her dearly beloved father’s case, choice in everyone else’s–and that was prolly the part that made this hurt the worst for her.

“Well, if you’re not pulling my leg, that decision’s pretty easy for me,” Belle finally said. Her words seemed almost flippant, but still caught her mother’s and boyfriends’ attention as they waited in anticipation.

“And what decision’ve ya made, young one?” the Morrígan asked, her smirk screaming that she wasn’t really curious ’cuz she already knew the answer.

“I’m going back to 1988 with ’em,” she answered simply. “And before ya say anything, yeah–I know that chances are, I’ll never get to Return to this Time, unlike these two Returning to the Time period they’re _supposed_ to be in right now.”

“I’m gladja realize that without having to be told.” The Goddess standing before them nodded approvingly. “That was to be my next point that was covered.”

“Wait, really?” Bobby asked, his own Chocolate eyes widening in surprise.

“The only way she’ll ever get to Return to this Time period once she goes back to 1988 is if she’s in Danger and it’s safer, or if something drastic–such as a breakup following your hitting the bottle again–happens,” she answered. “And even then, such a thing prolly won’t happen unless there’s a child involved.”

The pair of bassists looked at each other with wide eyes, seemingly reading each others’ mind–they’d never put any Thought into having kids and doubted it’d ever happen to them.

“Beyond reasons such as that, and only at the most extreme, she’ll be stuck in 1988 to work her way up to the here and now as much as you’ve been stuck here in 2018 for the past four months,” the Morrígan continued.

“Therefore, any choice I make about going back hasta be well thought-out and final,” their shared girlfriend told them, still sounding flippant.

“I can’t believe you’d actually choose to go back to 1988 when ya can barely live without technology!” Kat finally exploded.

Belle turned a downright glacial look on her mother, colder than any look they’d ever seen her pin on anyone else in the few months they’d been here. It was so cold and devoid of all Emotion, to the point that her eyes actually looked black, and they weren’t sure if that was from the Color of her irises actually Changing, or from her pupils dilating so much. After all, it was decently Dark in the living room, what with only the one lamp on now that the Sun’d set for the Day.

“And what reason do I have to stay?” she demanded. Her voice was low and Controlled, not to mention just as icy as the rest of her expression. “Gimme a damn good reason–just one–and maybe I’ll Change my mind about it.”

Her mother looked startled for a moment, then opened and closed her mouth several Times as she floundered for a response.

“Exactly, the answer to that’s simple–there _is_ no reason for me to stay in 2018,” the young woman stated with a finality they rarely heard from her.

Neither Bobby, nor Duff–not even the Goddess before them–dared intervene in this particular mother-daughter fight.

“I’ve absolutely _no_ job prospects, what with the way they demand more than a high school diploma these Days, nor any chances of _getting_ more than said diploma,” Belle continued. “You’re the only family left for me–Daddy’s dead, and the rest abandoned me for whatever reason suited each one of ’em. Hell, even my best friends–whom I’ll admit was more of a girlfriend, in one’s case–abandoned me for the sex they got from whoever happened along that stuck their fancy.”

The bassists couldn’t help a wince at that admission, now starting to realize that it was no wonder she’d taken nearly two monthsta turn to them in a sexual sense.

“What I’ve found with Bobby and Duff–it’s shit I’ve only seen and experienced in my wildest Dreams,” Belle told her. “Shit that I’d been pining for for Years, but never dared to admit ’cuz I was terrified of opening myself up like that, only to be stabbed in the back–again.”

Even the older woman couldn’t seem to come up with an intelligent response for that, and they knew that she was so witty, such a thing was rare for her.

“Yeah, I’m taking a helluva chance by going back to 1988 right into the middle of a blow-Storm with these two–but I’m _not_ gonna take my chances with ’em going back and _hoping_ their Present Selves remember me, should I ever _meet_ said Present Selves,” she concluded. “Keeping the Love I miraculously found and have managed to keep the past few months means more to me than staying here, where my Life’s so bleak, I’d rather kill myself than wake up most Days.”

Both bassists grabbed her in a tight, possessive hug–even though it meant somewhat hugging each other, too–at the Thought of having to visit her grave instead of her. There was something about this young woman that drew them in like Luna Mothsta a Flame, and they were finally Beginning to put their fingers on that reason after months of getting to know her.

She was unlike any woman they’d ever met back in the seventies and eighties–a soft-spoken, sweet-Natured cuddler one minute, an all-out brawler who could give them a run for their money the next. Belle wouldn’t harm a fly unless she’d simply gotten fed up with it, despite how violent she might seem at first, but she wouldn’t take any shit, either. She always encouraged their learning new things and implementing whatever seemingly crazy ideas they came up with, but she also let it be known when she thought they were being stupid or getting carried away. And most importantly to them, while she might sometimes get pissed at and not wanna speak to them for a while, she still loved them, no matter how pissed she got.

This young woman was willing to not only love and encourage them, she was willing to pick them up when they fell, dust off their asses, and send them running headlong into their next adventure, metaphorically speaking. Hell, if they were completely honest with themselves, she was even willing to put herself in harm’s way for them–everything from taking a bullet or blade meant for them to getting run over by their tour buses was fair game as far as she was concerned, as long as they were safe.

Even if she was lazy more often than she wasn’t due to what they affectionately called her _old Lady joints,_ those aforementioned qualities were hard to find in just about any decade. It took some damned serious Dedication to say that one’d be willing to die, if it meant their partner survived, without the slightest hesitation the way she did. Bobby and Duff both knew she meant her every word when she said something like that, and they wanted to keep that–not to mention _her_ –with them. And yeah, it was more than a bit upsetting to see Kat being so narcissistic when it was her daughter’s choice to go back to 1988 with them, not hers.

“Far as I’m concerned, it’s _my_ choice whether I go back with ’em or not–and I’m sure the Morrígan agrees,” Belle said matter-of-factly.

“It _is,_ indeed, your choice, young one,” the Goddess in question agreed solemnly with a single nod.

“Then my mind’s made up,” she stated. “There’s no real reason for me to stay here in 2018 unless I really _wanna_ wind up in my grave within the next Year.”

“And what if y’all break up, then you’re quite literally _stuck_ in the Past?” Kat asked.

“That’s _my_ problem, not yours,” the young woman answered, shrugging. “And I’ll cross _that_ Bridge, if and when I come to it.”

“Then let’s make haste, children.”

All of them turned their attention to the lone Raven-haired woman as she waved an arm to gesture to the still-open Portal that’d brought her here.

“There’s no sense in wasting Time overthinking a decision that’s already been well thought-out,” the Morrígan stated. “Robert and Michael need to get back to their own Time, now that they’ve learned at least one of the lessons Intended for them right now.”

“Wait, just one?” Duff asked, apparently deciding to overlook the use of his legal name since there was no telling what this powerhouse of a woman could do to him.

“Yea, just the one for now,” she laughed. “Many lessons Intended for the both of ya shall take an entire Lifetime to learn, not just a mere four months.”

“Which’s prolly part of the reason why Belle’s being allowed to go back with us,” the older bassist chuckled.

“As I said before, it’s her choice whether to do so or not.” The Goddess pinned them with a stern look that was only marginally softened by the benevolent smile barely Gracing her features. “It’s a reward for her loyal service, whether it helps with the two of ya learning your Lifelong lessons or not.”

She beckoned to the young trio so they’d step closer, considering they’d been a good six feet away from her, not to mention the Portal. Instructing the guysta grab each of their girlfriend’s hands, she told them it was best to lace their fingers together like a woven tapestry. Losing their grip could result in one or more of them winding up in a different place than where they were meant to go, and possibly even another Time period altogether.

Nodding Sagely, they both grabbed one of Belle’s hands, all of them lacing their fingers together before squeezing so hard, they felt like they’d break each others’ hands. The Morrígan then stepped closer to the Portal before stepping into it so that she straddled it and the living room they’d been standing in all this Time. She reached out and grabbed Bobby’s hand since he was the closest to her, lacing her fingers with his free hand and giving a gentle tug. He didn’t miss her Silent message to c’mon and stepped forward, being extra careful as he followed her into this oddball Portal that was gonna take him _home_. Left with no other choices, the younger bassist and their shared girlfriend followed them, and soon all four were engulfed by the Portal.

It didn’t remain open but a couple moments after they’d stepped into it, then it closed so that they were completely surrounded by that slowly-spinning Galaxy. They couldn’t help but look around them in Awe, noting that after a few moments, that Galaxy seemed to start spinning faster and faster. Before long, it felt like the Air was sucked from their lungs and Cotton jammed in their ears as they went hurtling through Time and Space.

Without even really knowing how, Belle managed to keep her grip on her boyfriends’ hands, not to mention twine each of her legs with one of theirs like she did when they were asleep at Night. She felt both of them squeeze her hands a bit tighter than they already were, as if reassuring her that they were still right there beside her. Considering he was gripping the Morrígan’s hand in his other one, she knew damn good and well the older bassist’d tightened his grip on even hers in a Silent reassurance. There was no way they could physically talk right now, and none of them were really able to form a coherent Thought that’d be heard by the Goddess.

After what seemed like a Lifetime and then some, but only mere moments at the same Time, another Portal opened before them. The young woman saw what almost looked like the office of a high-fluting executive, but quite a bit of the _décor’s_ theme wouldn’t have found in the office of just _any_ executive. There were various records, awards, and magazines contained within their own frames that littered the walls, and the Color scheme wasn’t the typical sterile one expected of an executive’s office.

Drawing closer to the Portal now in front of them, the young trio could see several people in the room on the other side of it–and they recognized all but one. These people were the remains of both Poison and GN’R, as well as their managers, so they could only assume the last remaining person was some record label executive threatening the bands’ record deals. It’d certainly make sense, considering that two vital members’d just disappeared without a trace, even if they’d no Control over doing so. If neither band had replaced their missing member in the last four months–which was highly unlikely, given the Time period they were Traveling back to–chances were that they were being told that their Time was up. Either they find their missing members so they could carry on with recording and touring, or they replace said members for the same purposes.

Several gasps suddenly rang out, and Belle innately realized that it wasn’t her or either of her boyfriends who’d made those sounds. Only one thing coulda made that happen–the other side of the Portal suddenly opening in that record label executive’s office and startling the remains of the two bands. After all, the three of them and Kat’d been pretty well-startled when the Morrígan’d appeared in the womens’ living room–why wouldn’t the rest of these guys be, too? However, there was no Time to ponder that question as they suddenly felt like they were launched forward by an unseen Force.

Groaning as they came in for a hard landing on their knees, Bobby and Duff tried to make sure they could ease their shared girlfriend’s fall without letting go of her hands. Neither could help the soft _Oof!_ they let out as they somehow managed to catch her on their backs just before they heard soft, feminine laughter. Looking behind them, they realized they couldn’t see the Goddess who’d brought them here anymore, but they heard her.

“The three of ya take care, and remember–with choice comes reward, and with reward comes choice,” she said in their heads so only they’d hear.

“The fuckin’ hell’d I smoke this Morn?”

Given the way they’d turned, Bobby and Duff both knew that none of their collective band mates’d recognized them yet. Considering they’d never met her before, they knew none of them recognized their shared girlfriend as she managed to push herself upright and take some of the pressure off their backs. None of them were willing to break their physical connection by letting go of each others’ hands till they all sensed that Portal close behind them, thus essentially sealing them into 1988.

“Fuck, that was weird,” the younger bassist finally managed as he reached up to shove his hair back.

“Amen to that, brother,” his musical counterpart chuckled, mimicking his movement.

“Wait a minute,” Poison’s manager gasped.

“Bobby–Duff?” Their names were uttered by GN’R’s manager, Allan Niven, in his thick, British accent.

“Yeah, it’s us,” Bobby answered, looking up with a slight smile.

“Got a tag-along, but that can get explained in a lil bit,” Duff agreed. “What we wanna know right off the bat–what month and Year is it?”

“August, 1988,” Bret answered without missing a beat. “You’ve both been gone without the slightest trace for four months!”

“Kinda didn’t have a choice, man,” the brunette told him, taking his hand as he moved to help him up.

Axl moved to help his own bassist up, surprised when both turned to the young woman that was with them. “Then explain it, ’cuz we’re all beyond confused, dudes.”

Sharing a look with each other, then Belle, they finally turned back to their bands and managers, not to mention the record label executive they didn’t recognize. None of them were quite sure that they wanted to get into this right now, if it was as late as it’d been getting in 2018, North Carolina. Then again, they knew that they were gonna have to get into it sooner or later, and that everyone over even Howie’s and Allan’s heads were gonna have to be informed of the recent goings-on, too.

Bobby took a deep breath as he settled so he was leaning back against the wall behind him, an arm wrapping around the young woman’s waist. The younger bassist took on an almost identical position on her other side, just with his arm wrapped around her shoulders instead. As short as she was, it was easy for her to reach both their waists and Return the possessive, yet protective gesture as she leaned back against the wall, as well. These actions weren’t missed by any of the other men in the room, and they seemed to innately understand that she’d a big role in whatever they were about to be told. How big of a role, they couldn’t say at the moment, but they were all sure of one thing–the story was bound to be a helluva doozy.

Duff took the reins by starting off with how the last place he recalled being before his disappearance was on his band’s tour bus. He couldn’t have said where they’d actually been, knowing it coulda been right outside Los Angeles as much as somewhere in the Midwest, New England, or even the Deep South. When he’d woken up, he hadn’t been on that bus or anywhere near it–he’d been in this young woman’s bed with her.

The older bassist’s story wasn’t much different, and the trio of blondes who made up the rest of his band knew him well enough to know he didn’t tell outlandish tales for nothing. Every tale he’d ever told them–whether it was of his childhood, some shenanigans he’d gotten into on tour, whatever–held at least a lil bit of Truth to them. Whatever’d happened to these two, they were still just as sane as they’d ever been, considering that–while it took a certain amount of Insanity to live the Lives they did–they’d never been diagnosed with any kinda mental illness or anything.

“So, you’ve seriously been thirty Years into the Future for the past four months?” Izzy asked. He was the next most level-headed band member besides the older bassist, it seemed.

“Oddly enough, yeah,” said bassist answered, nodding. “Belle’s been a helluva help to both of us, even before we both started dating her.”

“Wait a minute–what?” Steven asked, looking surprised.

“Whaddaya mean, you’re _both_ dating her?” Rikki tacked on, knowing it was best to clarify what his fellow drummer meant.

“Polyamory, guys,” she spoke up. “Basically, think polygamy without the marriage part.”

They all looked surprised by that, especially considering that it was normally a man taking multiple partners, not a woman.

“Essentially, the only thing that gets hidden in this relationship’s the sexual shit,” Belle continued. “If I’ve a dirty Night with one of ’em, neither of us tell the one I _didn’t_ have that dirty Night with.”

“Neither of us wanna know what she does with the other, so we’re cool with that,” the younger bassist chuckled. “It’s already weird enough to essentially swap spit and have sex with each other in a roundabout way–we don’t need to make things any weirder.”

“Especially considering we Time Traveled _and_ teleported in our sleep,” Bobby added. “So, if keeping all lines of Communication except _that one_ open’s what works, then so be it.”

“Well, if there’s one thing I’ve certainly noticed–whether anyone else has or not–it’s thatcha both seem pretty sober,” Allan spoke up. “Not that that’s a bad thing, mind you.”

Both bassists chuckled, but their demeanors suddenly turned even more serious than they’d been just moments before as they pinned hard looks on both their bands. Duff made no bones about having gone completely sober for his own Health–both physical and mental, but especially physical–as much as his musical counterpart had. And he made it quite clear that, no matter what Direction either of their bands wound up turning in–no matter what choices their band mates made for themselves and their own Lives–he wasn’t going back to that Life of substance abuse.

None of their collective band mates seemed to believe his claim, nor the older bassist agreeing with him, but they didn’t particularly care. They both knew as well as their shared girlfriend that it’d take Time to actually prove how serious they actually were, and that was the good thing about both. Even if it took the rest of their Livesta actually do, they were more than willing to put in the work to prove they were sober for good.

Since it was so late, despite the Time Travel and Change in Time zones, they told them that they’d keep going over their experiences of the past few months some other Time. Bobby and Duff were now used to winding down for the Day so they could head off to bed within a couple hours, so they were starting to get tired. Even Belle was starting to get tired, and no doubt the actual Time Travel’d quite the Influence on that for all three of them.

Left with no other choices, the rest of their bands, their managers, and even the record label executive agreed to pick up the conversation at a later date. Course, said record label executive warned them that he was gonna insist they all undergo a psychiatric evaluation to make damn sure they were all of sound mind, even though they didn’t seem like they’d truly gone insane. He said that it was nothing personal, as far as he was concerned, but so they’d have professional verification for everyone else at the label who was bound to say they were lying. Since only those in the room’d witnessed their sudden reappearance–and with a tag-along, at that–they acquiesced just so they could go home and get some rest.


	7. Six

_Eighteen Months Later…_

_February, 1990_

_Los Angeles, California_

So much’d Changed for the young, Time Traveling trio after they’d been escorted through the very threads of Time and Space that one Eve. After undergoing the psychiatric evaluation mentioned by the record label executive–and subsequently deemed perfectly sane–they’d started to carry on with their Lives. That meant getting back out on the road to finish up the _Appetite_ tour for Duff and the rest of GN’R, but actually _start_ the accompanying tour for _Open Up,_ in Bobby’s and the rest of Poison’s case.

Unable to clone herself since science wasn’t even that advanced in 2018, nor able to teleport at Will, Belle was forced to decide on going with one boyfriend or the other, or simply staying home. Home’d been outside Los Angeles–not quite in the neighboring City of Thousand Oaks, but certainly not Beverly Hills, either–when they’d first arrived back in 1988. The young woman split her Time between the apartment Howie’d managed to move Poison into before their lone brunette’s disappearance, and what was affectionately referred to as the _Hell House_. It was the rundown, shabby apartment shared by all five of the GN’R members once their own manager’d gotten them outta the storage unit they used as both a living and practice Space.

However, once both bassists’d come off the road for some well-deserved down Time the following Year, they’d made a mutual decision about their living arrangements. None of them, especially said musicians, could handle being around all the rowdy drunks who were also still using other substances. There was simply too much temptation for the two of them since they’d meant what they’d said about _staying_ clean.

Belle’d been more than agreeable to finding their own place, if only so she wouldn’t have as many reasonsta wanna kill the rest of their bands. If one of them walked in on her while she was trying to use the bathroom, take a shower, or deal with certain other needs, then refused to leave–well, somebody was gonna die, and it sure as shit wasn’t gonna be her. Knowing what she was being put through, neither of the bassists’d the gall to keep putting her through it, now that they’d enough money between them to put an End to that. After all, no woman deserved to have to deal with that, and to be quite honest, neither of them wanted to, either.

Their problem was deciding on a place to live, given that the only thing they could agree on was that it _not_ be in Southern–or really _any_ –part of California.

“I still wanna move back to Florida,” Bobby was saying as they enjoyed breakfast together at a local café so they could actually hear each other.

“And I wanna move back to the Seattle area,” the younger bassist argued. Both of them were vying for their childhood stomping grounds, even though they were in completely opposite corners of the country, for the sentimental values.

“Y’all’re starting to gimme a headache,” Belle grumbled, rubbing her temples after setting her coffee mug down.

“Hey, I don’t get along with cold and Ice,” her older, brunette boyfriend chuckled. “I was born in Miami, don’t remember much of living in Penn from the age of two till I was nine.”

“I don’t get along with heat and humidity since I spent my whole Life in Seattle till I moved down here,” Duff said by way of agreement.

“Y’all act like _I_ like either of those sets any better,” she sighed, finally looking up at them.

“Then what the hell’re we gonna do?” Bobby asked, sounding every bit as frustrated as her younger, blonde boyfriend looked and she felt.

“We’re never gonna agree on anywhere, if that’s the case,” he added.

“I’m starting to wanna say just lemme pick the place–as in City, State, etc.–my damn self, and y’all just shut up and deal with the parts y’all don’t like as much as I’m gonna,” the young woman told them.

Neither were very surprised by her sudden take-charge attitude, considering she’d finally revealed that she was a Libra, the Cardinal Air sign. Both of them were fixed signs–Scorpio in Bobby’s case, Aquarius in Duff’s–so they could be exceptionally stubborn when they wanted to be. The difference was that the older bassist tended to be a lot more laid-back and _go-with-the-flow_ type, while the younger one was usually a more in need of constant mental stimulation and _bend-with-the-Wind_ type.

Even still, since they couldn’t seem to decide on any one location to even start looking at houses in, they both finally sighed and told her to lay it on them. Most of Belle’s ideas were more than a lil off-the-wall and _out there,_ for lack of a better way to put it, but they always held merit. Both knew that she might have a suggestion on a possible location to start in that they hadn’t even thought of, as well as a good reason behind it.

The young woman looked at both of them from where she sat on one side of the small, four-sided table they’d been led to by the hostess. Her idea was to start looking somewhere in Tennessee, preferably closer to the Mountains than out toward Nashville or Memphis, if they could. Both bassists started to protest that, but she simply held up a hand to shut them both up before they could really get started on their rants. Knowing she meant business now more so than ever, jaws clacked shut as they held their tongues so they could hear her out without starting a fight. Whether they admitted it or not, they were both curious as to why she’d suggest anywhere near her home State, even thirty Years into the Past compared to when she’d been born and raised.

As it turned out, she was thinking more so toward Appalachia to suit herself and Bobby as much as herself and Duff. The reasoning was ’cuz in that area, there’d be plenty of heat and humidity for the former during the Summer, the Beach being only a few hours’ drive from them. During the Winter, there’d be plenty of cold and Snow, especially in the higher elevations–and given that he’d practically grown up in the Cascades, it’d be fairly reminiscent of the latter’s childhood stomping grounds. Since she liked warmer climes, but was more of a Mountain girl than a Beach babe, it’d suit her well enough Year-round, too.

“Ya know…that actually doesn’t sound half-bad,” the lone blonde of their group said thoughtfully as he pondered the idea. “I mean, I love the Mountains–even if I _hate_ the heat and humidity–since I _grew up_ in the Mountains of a different range.”

“I guess I could deal with the cold and Snow–even the Ice–during the Winter, as long as I get my nice, hot Summers,” Bobby acquiesced, even though he obviously wasn’t thrilled at the Thought. “And even though I’d rather the Beach be within walking distance like when I was a kid, at least it wouldn’t be _that_ far away, in the grand scheme of things.”

“I thought y’all’d both see it my way on that one,” their shared girlfriend snickered. “Especially since it’s nowhere near Cali, and it’s mostly the Democrats we’re wanting to get away from.”

“No, not just Democrats–the ones ya call _snowflakes_ in 2018,” he corrected her with a grin. “There’s a difference between just looking out for one’s fellow man and going absolutely ape-shit with it.”

“Kinda like there’s a difference between just wanting to always ensure having enough for survival and being a totally tight-pursed curmudgeon,” Duff agreed.

“Whatever–y’all both get the point I’m trying to make,” Belle laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Be glad I’m not pulling the _Bobby-and-I-just-handfasted-last-October-and-_ still- _haven’t-gone-on-our-honeymoon_ card.”

Both bassists laughed along with her at that particular comment, even though neither of them could truly deny that. It was true that they’d handfasted on October sixteenth for a few different reasons, the biggest being ’cuz they technically _couldn’t_ legally wed and still keep things fair. After all, she could legally wed only one of them, which could very well get her other relationship viewed as being an extra-marital affair. Not only that, but she didn’t wanna feel like she _had_ to choose between either of them when it came to such a thing, while handfasting allowed her to take multiple husbands, if she chose.

However, Bobby’d another reason for picking that particular date, whether he was on the road or back home in the Greater Los Angeles area. When she’d finally revealed that her grampa–referred to as either _her pappaw,_ or affectionately as _Daddy_ more often than not–had died on that date, they’d known it wouldn’t be a good thing for her. Granted, neither of them’d expected her to go on a three-Day bender–’cuz of her own birthday, her pappaw’s, and the anniversary of his Death all being one right after the other–let alone manage to keep herself from getting _too_ outta Control. Sure, she’d gotten giggly as hell–even to the point of laughing at thin Air–and been stumbling all over the place, but she’d cut herself off after just four shots. Beyond that, all she’d done was nurse her intoxication with a couple beers over the course of the next couple hours before bed.

The older bassist’s desire was to give her _good_ memories for October sixteenth, especially now that she was in a Time period where her beloved pappaw was technically still alive. If handfasting on that particular date instead of any of the other three hundred and sixty-four Days of the Year gained that End, he was more than willing to. Luckily for him, Belle’d been all for the idea, but that’d caused a problem for them since Timing was of the absolute Essence.

Duff was technically supposed to stay out on the road till the twenty-second, even though Bobby’d gotten off the road back in July. While he’d a five-Day period between GN’R’s show at the Park Plaza Hotel Ballroom and the first of several at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, they’d to be absolutely sure everyone even remotely involved was still on board. The couple wasn’t willing to wait till next Year–now technically _this_ Year–since they didn’t know when either of them’d go on tour again. If even the slightest thing got set back by even a few minutes, it wasn’t likely the younger bassist’d be able to walk her down the aisle like she’d wanted.

Luckily, everything’d gone off without a hitch, and they’d managed to have a beautiful–if somewhat off-the-wall–ceremony on a nearby Beach. It was more than kinda amusing to see the groom wearing nothing but a pair of black jeans and his cowboy boots, his hair only bound in a loose ponytail to keep it from being blown in his face the whole Time. What was even more amusing, though, was the bride walking down the aisle in a black bikini top, Dark blue jeans, and her own cowboy boots–and on the arm of an equally shirtless man, the difference there being that his jeans were also Dark blue to differentiate between wedding party and groom. Needlessta say, their band mates’d all gotten a good laugh, but having gotten to know the young woman, they’d realized that it was just par for the course in her style.

Ever since then, though, things’d been too busy for them to truly take a honeymoon, what with the Creativity for a third album sparking for Poison. Not only that, but they couldn’t take _too_ long to record another album and get back out on the road, if they wanted to keep their record deal, especially after the bassists’ four-month disappearance.

“Yeah, I guess we _should_ be glad you’re not pulling that card,” Duff chuckled.

“Seriously, ’cuz I’d be right on board with her–to a certain extent,” the older bassist agreed with a grin.

“Well, I mean, c’mon–we haven’t gotten our honeymoon, andja idiots won’t quit arguing like a pair of bickering siblings,” she laughed. “If I gotta pull _that_ card, then I’m doing it on the grounds of being the only sensible one and getting to pick where we’re gonna live, if I can’t even get a damn honeymoon!”

“Hey, I never saidja wouldn’t get one at all, sweetheart!” he shot back playfully, letting out his own laugh when she reached over to slap his arm. “Ow–spousal abuse!”

“Keep it up, and I’ll show ya what _spousal abuse_ really is,” the young woman chuckled.

“In all seriousness, though, I’ve always Intended to take ya on a honeymoon–butcha know how the Creative process is,” Bobby told her. “Ya don’t make good on an idea or scrap it right off the bat, and you’re gonna lose it, no matter how many notes ya make to yourself.”

“Yeah, ’cuz writing a song’s not much different than writing a full-on story,” the younger bassist agreed. “The biggest difference’s that a song’s really only supposed to be so long, ’cuz too long andja lose a listener’s attention.”

“Exactly, whereas stories that’re too short leave a reader feeling lacking, but one that’s too long makes ’em feel a sense of dread–unless it’s written spectacularly,” Belle added. “So, I totally get where both of y’all’re coming from on that–but it doesn’t mean I’ve to like it, if and when it gets in the way of shit like having a honeymoon, or making a big, possibly cross-country move.”

“Can’t really argue there,” the older bassist admitted with a nod. “’Cuz while I can’t and won’t speak for him, I can’t say I’d feel any differently, if ya were a more well-known writer and book tours or something did the same thing while I was the Average Joe sitting at home.”

Even Duff nodded his agreement from his side of the table, saying that there was certainly a fine line between keeping their careers alive and thriving, and neglecting their personal Lives to the point of withering away. It might be hard for them to find that proper Balance between the two–sometimes more so than other Times–but they were doing their best. And as she’d reminded them countless Times ever since they met, as long as they were putting in the effort, she wasn’t going anywhere.

Now that they’d a place to start–quite literally, if they were honest–the young trio decided it was Time to start their house search. Without anything like the Internet to aid them in 1990, doing such a thing was certainly gonna be tougher than it’d be even ten or fifteen Years from now. That wasn’t to be said that it couldn’t be done altogether–it’d just take longer, and no doubt be harder than it coulda been.

Belle decided to take it upon herself to start searching for a decent Realtor in this particular area, ’cuz there was something common sense told her. One Realtor’d no doubt have the contacts of others, and even if it took them a while, they’d eventually find one out in Central-Eastern Tennessee that could help them. From there, they’d take a look at the suggestions said Realtor started giving them till they found something that could suit their current needs, but give them Space to grow in the Future. After all, while she might not be entirely sold on having kids right now, none of them knew if such a thing’d happen unexpectedly, or ’cuz she Changed her mind on the matter.

Given how busy Bobby and Duff both tended to be, they were more than agreeable to that plan till they started getting potential listingsta look at. They’d all be putting in their two cents on what kinda house to get, exactly where to look for such a house, and all that kinda shit. But till they started getting those listings, there was no point in taking their focus off their respective incubating albums. Poison was working on their third, GN’R on a two-volume second, and things were already crazy enough–adding a house-hunt to the list was just gonna make things even crazier.

It took a couple more months after coming to their house-hunting decision to start getting some listings, and the first thing on the list’d been to find a Realtor to work with. Finding the latter hadn’t taken nearly as long as they’d thought it would–the first one they’d contacted in their area actually worked in tandem with a sibling, who’d moved out to the very area they wanted to look in. Based in Johnson City, Tennessee, that sibling covered quite a bit of the area from there down to Chattanooga, mostly the smaller Towns that a lotta other Realtors simply couldn’t be bothered with, mostly along the Tennessee-North Carolina line.

As soon as said Realtor–a woman by the name of Molly Blanchard–started faxing her brother listings for him to pass on to her potential clients, Belle was quick to start going through them. They all agreed that there’d to be a master _and_ sub-master suite, that way neither of the guys’d an excuse to argue over who got the master suite. Even if there’d only been one, their shared girlfriend woulda gotten it–but that woulda left them arguing over who got to store more of their belongings there as they switched who shared it with her at any given Time. The easiest way for them to prevent any squabbling over that one was having a dual-master house, which’d allow her to coast between each one like she did her boyfriends.

In addition to that, they decided on at least two other bedrooms, maybe even three, as well as at least as many bathrooms as there were bedrooms. They wanted at least two bedrooms for potential Future kids, but also a guest room for anytime one or two of their collective band mates came out to visit. Beyond that, they weren’t too picky on living Space, as long as they didn’t feel like they were all crammed into either apartment.

Sure, it’d be great for the guysta have what’d amount to a practice Space, but they also didn’t necessarily need such a thing. Despite that, there was a certain listing not far from Kingsport that’d caught all their eyes, and they’d arranged to fly out to Tenn and take a look at it. Judging by what’d been faxed to them, Bobby and Duff might still get their practice Space without having to cut down on how many bedrooms they’d available to actually use as such.

“Hey, there.”

Greeted by a woman easily around thirty-five with Dark, curly hair and one of the thickest country drawls they’d ever heard, said bassists already knew they were in no-man’s-Land in comparison to anywhere they’d ever lived before.

“Ya must be Molly,” Belle said, surprising the woman with how thick her own accent was, even though it wasn’t quite identical.

“That, I am,” she answered, nodding as she shook her hand. “Molly Blanchard, the Realtor who’s been working with a group from out in California.”

“That’d be us,” the younger woman laughed. “Name’s Belle, and these two’re my boyfriends, Bobby and Duff.”

“I _did_ just hear the plural in that, correct?” Molly asked, turning her attention to the guys.

“Sure did,” she answered with a grin. “Couldn’t decide who I wanted more, but I’m no cheater, so I went with both.”

“Guess ya can say ya got your cake and to eat it, too, huh?” the Realtor laughed.

“Something like that,” Belle agreed. “So, whatcha got for us? ’Cuz I’m pretty sure they’ll both agree when I say that six hours on a plane for nothing’s one helluva buzzkill.”

“Well, this particular property sounded almost exactly like whatcha told my brother y’all were looking for,” she told her, starting to settle into her Realtor’s groove. “Five beds, four baths, a spacious kitchen with an eat-in dining area–and that’s not including the formal dining and living Spaces, nor the main gathering Space. And that’s just inside, by the way.”

The pair of bassists shared a look before turning their attention back to the slightly taller brunette woman.

“One of the master suites is downstairs, the other upstairs, along with three more bedrooms,” Molly continued as she led them up to the front porch. “Each master’s its own en suite, and one of the other two bathrooms is a _Jack-and-Jill.”_

“Which’s supposed to mean _what,_ exactly?” Bobby asked curiously.

“It means that it opens into two different bedrooms,” his shared girlfriend explained. “As in, you’ve two bedrooms that’re essentially side-by-side with the bathroom in the middle. But instead of opening into a hallway or something, the bathroom opens into each bedroom kinda like a connecting tunnel.”

“Wow, ya sure do know your stuff,” the Realtor said, looking a bit surprised.

“What can I say? Like my mother, I’ma walking box full of useless trivia sometimes,” Belle laughed.

“Well, moving on.” She made her way up the front stairs and onto the porch so she could unlock the front door as she continued.

The fourth bathroom was about halfway down a short hall to the right of the kitchen, along with the laundry room and a walk-in pantry. All that was to the right of the family room, which seemed to span the whole back side of the house like the office-slash-den, foyer, and formal dining room spanned the front. Well, it didn’t exactly span the _entirety_ of the back side due to the kitchen, but it was pretty close to doing so, considering how big it was for one room.

Off to the left of the family room was the first master suite, which was big enough for at least a King-size bed and dresser, then a private sitting area or reading nook on top of it. Its en suite’d a dual vanity that was so big, it coulda housed a third sink in the middle, as far as the visible part up top went. Maybe it couldn’t have when it came to the plumbing no doubt hidden within the cabinet, but that was a trivial matter to them.

When they turned to the right, they saw a huge corner tub complete with jets, which’d no doubt be a nice feature for all of them to make use of. Directly to its left was a shower that appeared to be a bit bigger than average, but then again, maybe they’d gotten used to smaller-than-average showers. It’d a shower curtain to keep the Water from spraying everywhere, and maybe that was something they could look into Changing, if they actually bought the place. For such a spacious shower, it seemed a lot smaller than it was and a lot Darker than it shoulda been due to being almost completely enclosed. None of them were gonna tell Molly that, though, as they turned their attention to whether the toilet was simply hidden or not.

Hidden in what Belle called a Water closet, it sat completely by itself, meaning that anytime somebody’d to actually go, they’d complete privacy. That was a good thing, considering the walk-in closet branched off the bathroom–which seemed a lil weird to the young trio–but they were about to get another surprise. As soon as they stepped into said closet, all their jaws dropped when they saw how big it was, which took both bassists’ full armspans put together to bridge. It was certainly bigger than any closet they’d ever had, maybe even bigger than any all three of them’d ever had put together.

“Jesus Christ, this thing’s the size of a bedroom, in and of itself!” Duff said, looking over at his musical counterpart.

“Maybe not an entire bedroom,” he argued. “Definitely the size of a mini nursery, though, if all you’re gonna have in it’s a crib, changing table, small dresser, and rocker.”

“Okay, now that I can agree with,” the younger bassist told him, nodding.

“I think you’re getting a lil too far ahead of yourselves,” Belle said, sounding a bit nervous as she chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s true enough,” Bobby laughed, moving to hug her. “I just meant that other than that, ya might get a twin-size bed, an end table, and a small dresser in here, but that’s about it.”

“Still, it’s huge for a freakin’ closet!” His musical counterpart couldn’t help another laugh of his own. “Bigger than any closet I’ve ever seen, that’s for sure!”

“Well, you’re the youngest of eight,” their shared girlfriend giggled. “I’m amazedja even _had_ a closet growing up.”

“Oh, my–what a family,” Molly chuckled, looking at the giant of a blonde.

“Yeah, Ma and Pa just couldn’t keep their hands off each other,” he told her with a snicker. “My oldest brother’s twenty Years older than be, born in the heart of WWII.”

“So, you’re not quite a baby boomer, then?” she asked, leading them back out to the family room so they could head upstairs.

“I guess that depends on when the baby boom era’s said to run,” the younger bassist answered. “Some say it runs only through the fifties, others say it runs up through ’65.”

_“Touché.”_ Laughing as they reached the family room, she led them up the stairs. “Like I said before, up here, we’ve the other three bedrooms and the final bathroom.”

Along the front of the house were two of the bedrooms, which were the ones that featured the _Jack-and-Jill_ bathroom. Each of the rooms’d one of the dormers they’d seen on the roof as they walked up to the front porch, the one in the bathroom housing a small table. To either side of the dormer was a pedestal sink, the toilet and tub-slash-shower combo being directly behind them.

Down the hall at its other End was the second master suite, which actually had its own living area that separated bed- from bathroom. Like the Primary master downstairs, the bedroom was big enough for at least a King-size bed, the ceiling more than tall enough to keep even Duff from busting his head on anything. The bathroom wasn’t nearly as big, but at least it sported a makeup vanity that was separate from the actual sink vanity. With that being the case, that meant he or Belle either one could be brushing their teeth while the other was dealing with hair and makeup, but not be in each other’s way.

Like the bathroom, the closet wasn’t nearly as big as the one in the Primary master suite, but it was still big enough for their needs. And since it was part of the living area, that meant they’d more than enough room to put a dresser in, whether it was in the bedroom or out here. They were all pretty impressed so far, but still, they weren’t gonna tell Molly that as she led them back down to the family room. None of them wanted to admit how impressed they were till they started talking numbers once the full tour was over and done with.

From the family room, they headed out one of the two sets of French doors that led out to the back yard, which certainly impressed them. Complete with a pool and hot tub in the fenced-in part, it was absolutely huge and the perfect place to host just about anything, especially barbecues and pool parties. That was when the Realtor told them that the lot this house sat on wasn’t quite two acres, so the back yard wasn’t just the mostly concrete, fenced in part. There was a decent amount of it that was grass, although the front and side yards–especially combined–were certainly bigger. Add in the three-car garage and driveway that could easily hold six more cars, not to mention the dead-End road to the house’s right, and they were sold.

“All right, now we’ve to talk numbers,” Bobby said as they sat on the front porch a short while later.

“Seriously, ’cuz I’m in Love with this house about as much as I am with Belle,” the younger bassist chuckled. “And I’d rather not get my Hopes up for nothing.”

“Same here,” the pair of brunettes agreed with a nod.

“Then you’ll prolly be surprised at the listing price,” Molly told them. “For all this, you’re looking at $151,900, all in all.”

Belle’s eyes were the onesta widen in surprise. “Shit, I thought we’d be looking at upwards of two, for damn sure.”

“Not like we couldn’t afford it, either way,” the older bassist said. “But yeah, I certainly wasn’t expecting a price that low–not for all this.”

“Hey, leaves us with more money to make any Changes we wanna make,” Duff pointed out. “Like closing off that office to make it into a soundproof practice Space for the two of us.”

The Realtor couldn’t help cocking a brow in unadulterated Curiosity.

“We’re both musicians by trade,” he explained with a grin. “No, not just making the rounds of playing local bars–not anymore.”

“We’ve both pretty much made it to the top, if ya will,” Bobby added. “Record deals, World tours–the works.”

“Oh, wow,” she breathed, looking surprised.

“Therefore, having a practice Space’s ideal,” their shared girlfriend continued. “It allows ’em to do their thing without giving me a headache–or me having to familiarize myself with a breaker box overmuch when they don’t listen to a nice request to turn it down for a while.”

“And if the office ain’t gonna get used as such, where better to make their practice Space?” Molly laughed.

“Our point exactly!” the older bassist told her, bouncing in his seat almost like an excited child.

None of them wanted to waste another minute on putting in an offer on the place, ’cuz this seemed like the perfect Dream home to them. There was plenty of Space for the three of them to come together or scatter out as it was, and they’d room to grow as a family, if they so chose. And even though they didn’t have enough actual bedrooms, they’d enough Space to house the entirety of both bands all at once, if they came out East to work on Future material.

With their offer put in, all they could do was Return to California and keep looking, just in case their offer was rejected. Considering that Belle’d talked her boys into going in slightly above listing price–which was also market value for the place–the Realtor didn’t think that’d happen, but it didn’t hurt to keep looking. If their offer got accepted, that was when they’d start figuring out how to get their belongings from Los Angeles out to Kingsport. They didn’t wanna start figuring that part out before they knew whether the offer’d been accepted or rejected ’cuz they’d all been raised not to count their Chickens before they hatched.

All in all, it turned out to be a far better trip out to Appalachia than they’d expected it to be when they’d boarded their flight at LAX. Maybe it’d be too drastic of a Change for the rest of Poison and GN’R to handle, maybe it wouldn’t be–they wouldn’t know till they got back. Either way, Bobby, Belle, and Duff didn’t care–this was their joint Life, and they were gonna live it the way they wanted to, regardless of others’ opinions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've done in at least a couple of my more recent stories–and really ever since I started sharing my writing with the World–here's a link to the real estate listing I was using as the house Bobby, Belle, and Duff went to view in this particular chapter. It may not be the huge, over-the-top type of home a lotta rockers and other celebrities seem to be known for, but I think it suits this unconventional trio's needs perfectly. Besides, Bobby's always struck me as a pretty simple kinda guy, even if Duff doesn't. LOL!
> 
> Lemme know what y'all think of my pick, especially for these three! I'ma head off to get some sleep soon, then get cracking on yet another chapter much further down the line tomorrow before I post anymore, so _buona Notte, e Sogni dolci!_  
>  ~Firefly
> 
> Link to House–https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/816-S-Sherbrooke-Cir-Mount-Carmel-TN-37645/81112965_zpid/


	8. Seven

It was less than a week before Bobby, Belle, and Duff found out that their offer’d been accepted by the seller, and the house in Tennessee was essentially theirs. All they really needed to do now was decide exactly whose name to put all the paperwork in since it wasn’t like the young woman was legally wed to either of her boys, and said boys’d both put an equal amount of money into the pot. They’d wanted to buy the place outright, no mortgage or anything else that’d tie them down more so than utilities and any renovations were bound to. Not only would doing that prevent any bank from being able to take their house from them at any point in the Future, but that was one less bill to have to worry about paying once they moved.

Finding out the news couldn’t have come at a better moment, as far as Belle was concerned, even though she certainly hadn’t expected such a thing to happen so quickly. She’d nearly gotten Axl in the head with her younger boyfriend’s hair dryer after he’d walked in on her showering and refused to leave–again. Poor Duff’d gotten caught in the middle of their fight when he’d been forced to hold her back after she’d tried to charge the lone ginger of the bands like a raging Bull.

And that was something else that _both_ bassists’d been noticing lately–that their shared girlfriend was a helluva lot moodier than anything they’d ever seen outta her before, but also tired as hell. In addition to those things, she seemed like she was getting sick and trying to hide it from them, as was typical of her stubborn, _don’t-ask-for-help-unless-I-absolutely-need-it_ attitude. They’d thought it was from their house-hunt at first, considering that she’d taken on going through the majority of the listings they’d been given since doing such a thing was bound to stress just about anyone out enough to start causing Health problems.

Eventually, Bobby and Duff managed to talk her into scheduling a doctor’s appointment for herself, just to be damn sure it was just stress getting to her. She seemed to agree readily enough, almost to the point that it was a bit suspiciousta them, but they were just glad she was doing it. Neither one expected to be told what she found out as a result of that appointment, but they’d a meeting with their West Coast Realtor to get to.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” the older bassist said as soon as they walked into Poison’s apartment from their meeting. “How’d it go?”

“A lot better than I thought,” Belle answered, her smile looking a bit weak.

“Whaddaya mean, Bobby?”

Looking up from where they knelt next to the couch, they saw Bret coming outta the kitchen with a glass of something amber in his hand.

“Made her make a doctor’s appointment since she’s seemed so under-the-Weather lately,” Duff answered, gently brushing her hair back. When the blonde vocalist made to hand the glass to his girlfriend, he couldn’t help but stop him since he thought it was something totally different.

“Relax, Leprechaun-boy,” Bret chuckled. “It’s just Ginger ale since I got home to her tossing her cookies a lil while ago.”

“Wait, what?” The younger bassist’s eyes widened as he turned his attention to his girlfriend. “Hon, what’s going on?”

“Well, this answer’s more so for Bobby than you,” she told him after sipping her glass.

Both bassists looked at her expectantly, each one feeling his pulse ratcheting up as much as the other did.

“Turns out, I’m pregnant,” the young woman announced softly, unable to help a slightly-distressed burp.

“Wait, really?” they asked in unison, their eyes widening in an equal amount of shock.

“But wait–not trying to offend here, but howddaya know for sure that it’s mine?” Bobby asked, now looking curiously confused.

Shooting them a weak smile again, the young woman explained that–according to the calculations of the OB/GYN she’d seen today–she was about six weeks pregnant, give or take a couple Days. Even though she tried to keep her sex Life with them as Balanced as possible, sometimes that Balance’d get thrown off by the demands of their bands. One of the Times that Balance’d gotten thrown off was about six weeks ago, and it was from Axl being more of a Control freak than he normally was.

With that being said, it’d been Duff who’d been in the studio more than he hadn’t, leaving her to turn to her older boyfriend more during that Time. Considering how much she’d been turning to the older bassist during that Time, it was almost a sure bet that this baby was his. They’d most likely be able to tell without making use of the infant DNA technology available once it was born, but they’d wait and see on that part.

Both bassists were equally excited and elated when they found out the news, even though it was possible for only one of them to be the father. While Bobby was obviously a lil more excited, considering the likelihood that _he_ was the father this Time, even the younger bassist couldn’t help the giddy smile on his face. Neither of them truly gave a shit who the father actually was–they were Intent on loving this baby like it was their own, even if they _weren’t_ the biological father. They were both in their relationships for the long haul, and they couldn’t keep that particular promise to themselves, if they didn’t love each others’ Future kids like their own. It just wouldn’t be fair, and would no doubt cause strain and strife in places where there didn’t need to be any at all.

However, finding out this particular news made them even more glad their offer’d been accepted so quickly, surprising though that part was in and of itself. They hadn’t told the rest of the bands that they’d even been searching for their own place, let alone’d most likely found one out East. Now that their offer’d been accepted and they found out that Belle was pregnant on top of it–well, there wasn’t really any trying to hide it from either band. The sooner they told them, the sooner they could get moved and start moving on with their Lives, whether the bassists remained in their respective bands or not.

“Well, I guess we need to start making phone calls,” Bobby chuckled, still sounding Awed and giddy.

“Whyddaya say that?” the shorter blonde in the room asked curiously.

“Let’s just say that finding out Belle’s pregnant ain’t the only news we’ve to share,” the younger bassist answered with a grin.

“And it’s better we just go ahead and come out with it, considering we’ll have to reveal her pregnancy eventually, too,” his musical counterpart added.

Nodding, Bret said he’d go call the _Hell House_ for Duff since he was pretty sure the other half of his own band wound be home soon, anywhore.

“Guess there’s no turning back now, for sure,” the older bassist said with a chuckle.

“Good thing we’ve a short closing on the place,” Duff agreed with a grin. “I’m talking, a couple weeks at most.”

“Wait, really?” their shared girlfriend asked in surprise.

“Yeah–dude that owns the place right now wantsta get rid of it _that_ bad,” he answered.

“Apparently, one of his parents died on the property, so he tore the old house down and rebuilt,” Bobby explained. “But some weird shit’s been happening, and he wants outta there.”

“Prolly the deceased parent’s Spirit trying to give him a message or something,” she said thoughtfully. “It’d certainly explain why I felt like I was being watched the whole Time we were taking the tour, but not by anyone alive.”

“I didn’t know ya were some kinda psychic,” the younger bassist mused, now looking as surprised as she had moments ago.

“I’m not, when it comesta the kinda thatcha see on TV,” Belle laughed. “More like I’m just sensitive enough to know when there’s something _off_ about my surroundings, but I can’t actually see, hear, or talk to Spirits that might happen to be nearby.”

“So, does that mean ya can touch them?” her older boyfriend asked curiously.

“I can’t touch them, but _they_ can touch _me,_ if I allow it,” the young woman explained. “Well, if they’ve any kinda morals and respect a blatant statement _not_ to touch me, that is.”

She assured Bobby and Duff both that there were ways of cohabitating with a Spirit–or even multiple Spirits–peacefully, or simply getting rid of them. As long as simple ground rules she set for them were followed–as in, not touching the Living unless they allowed it, not fuckin’ with their heads beyond turning something on or off as a way of saying _Hi,_ those kinda things–she didn’t mind living in a quite literally haunted house. In fact, if she was honest, it’d be far from the first Time she’d done such a thing, although this’d be the first Time she did so by her own choice.

Both were curious about that and couldn’t help asking what she meant, which made her grin as she sat up more from where she’d been stretched out on the couch. It turned out that her grandparents’ property–which’d belonged to her maternal great-grandparents at one point–was haunted out the ass. Kat, one of the older woman’s ex-boyfriends, and a friend of his’d been into Ghost hunting, so they’d decided to do one on said property. They’d caught tons of what she called EVPs, pictures of Orbs–even a picture of an Orb _biting_ the ex-boyfriend’s friend, for lack of a better way to put it. Many of the EVPs didn’t make any sense, but a few could very well tie back to somebody in her own family–like the one that said _Melissa_ since she’d a great-aunt with that name who went by _Melissi_.

The guys were fascinated by that, even if they were more than a lil disturbed when she told them of another couple experiences that she’d personally had. Belle admitted that she’d felt like she was being watched in that house, particularly when she was nekkid or otherwise undressing, and had seen something that was like a mixture of the face of an ex and an evil clown face peeking out at her. She’d also had an experience where she’d smelled a certain perfume when there wasn’t any of that kind in the house, and see Shadow Cats, too.

In the house where she’d been living when they’d met her, there’d been a few different odd goings-on pretty much from the Time she and her mother’d moved in. Right off the bat, she’d smell cigarette smoke at the bottom of the stairs, and she’d thought more than once that Kat was breaking her own rule of no smoking in the house. The scent’d come and go, and they suspected that it was the Ghost of a former owner who’d been a heavy smoker, considering the amount of nicotine that got scrubbed off the walls before moving in. Kat’d seen a Shadow figure in the kitchen, and Belle’d had Lights turn on and off, as well as doors open on their own.

“Sounds like quite the interesting shit,” Bobby admitted thoughtfully. “Not too sure how well _I_ could handle that kinda thing, though.”

“It’s really not that bad,” she laughed. “As long as any Spirits around listen when ya lay down certain ground rules for ’em, they’re generally pretty easy to live with, if they’re benevolent.”

“How’re we gonna know whether they’re good or bad, though?” the younger bassist asked, looking way more creeped-out than his musical counterpart did.

“That’s where an EVP session can come in handy,” Belle answered. “EVP means _electronic voice phenomenon,_ which means thatcha won’t hear the response with your nekkid ear, but rather on a tape recording or something.”

“Really, now?” the older bassist asked.

“Yeah, which means that we could very well End up getting answersta certain questions that get asked, like if it’s the Spirit of a former owner, what their name is, etc.,” she continued.

“And if it’s a malevolent Force instead?” Duff asked, sounding a bit worried.

“You’ll prolly hear something like a growl, ’cuz not all responses of _Get out_ come from negative Entities,” the young woman answered. “Some come from human Spirits that just don’t like the Living or something.”

Their conversation was cut short by Bret Returning with the other two blondes of Poison hot on his heels, and she decided it was prolly best to stop talking about the Spirit Realm for a while. Not everybody was open to such talk after all, and she didn’t wanna get a debate started with skeptics who were total non-believers. It usually didn’t End well for those involved, and she wasn’t in any mood to fight with anybody right now, considering how she already felt.

Rikki and CC greeted the young trio like they always did–both full of excitement and ready to party, which could mean only one thing. Once they shared their news, these two–if not the entire group–was bound to wanna celebrate their finding their own place to some extent. At the same Time, they knew damn good and well those excited demeanors might just completely dissipate in favor of being upset with them.

It took a short while longer for the rest of GN’R to show up, but once they did–well, the young trio was even more glad to be getting their own place than they’d been before. Axl was clearly in a mood again, meaning that he wasn’t likely to react very well to either part of their news, no matter how they worded it. Slash and Izzy were both obviously coasting on smack again, and Steven was doing far more than coasting, judging by the look of things. As it was, the lone ginger and relatively new member–keyboardist Dizzy Reed–were practically dragging him between them. The second they got close enough to the love seat to manage it, they practically threw his almost-dead weight body on it, seemingly uncaring of anything but him _not_ hitting his head.

Considering how against drinking and drugging the young trio were at this point, they couldn’t exactly blame them for that particular behavior. They’d all tried to get the smack-and-coke-addicted band members help several Times, but the old adage of being unable to help anyone who didn’t want the help proved true Time and Time again. If he didn’t get help for his problems soon, he’d obviously be the first GN’R member to be fired, a point from Belle’s original Timeline she’d tried to warn them about. Since it appeared that they–Steven, especially–didn’t believe her, there wasn’t anything more they could do besides sit back and watch it play out.

“So, what the hell’d we get called over here for?” Leave it to Axl to cut right to the chase, and in prolly one of the most terse manners on the Planet.

“Thanks for asking how we were all doing,” the younger bassist dead-panned. “’Cuz no, we _haven’t_ be stressed all to fuck, or feeling under the Weather lately.”

His face turned almost as red as his hair at the reprimanding he was given.

“We’ve some news we wanted to share, and both our bands’re top on the list,” Bobby explained.

“Judging by the looks on your faces, we’re assuming it’s good?” Poison’s drummer was the one to pose this question, if only ’cuz his own counterpart was too outta it to do so, himself.

“Good for us, indefinitely,” the older bassist answered.

“Now, for the rest of ya–well, it’ll depend on how ya take it,” Duff added.

That caught everyone’s attention, all eyes locked on them as even the coasting ones perked up a bit.

“We decided a couple months ago that we wanted to find our own place,” he told them. “It’s not exactly easy for Belle to keep going back and forth between here and the _Hell House,_ and we all just wanna be able to find a quiet place to relax sometimes.”

“Makes sense to me,” Izzy said. “God knows I feel the same way sometimes.”

“Well, we managed to find a place we liked,” Bobby revealed. “But you’re bound to _not_ like where that location _is.”_

The entire group sat there Silently, awaiting their explanation as expectantly as a child awaiting their parent’s response in regard to something they’d requested. In fact, their expectation–or maybe more aptly, apprehension–was so thick, it was pretty much palpable to the young trio. Not wanting to beat around the bush since he’d never really been that kinda guy, the older bassist cut right to the chase with the first part of their news.

It took a few seconds, but soon enough, those apprehensive expressions turned to an almost even mixture of pleasant surprise and outright shock. None of their collective band mates’d expected him and Duff to actually find a house they liked, especially once they agreed on well enough to live in together. They especially hadn’t expected them to decide on moving outta State, and if they did, they’d thought the trio might move to Nevada, Arizona, or another State relatively close to where they were now. Hearing that they Intended to move pretty much clean across the country was definitely a shock to them since it hadn’t been expected.

After processing what they’d just been told, it was Axl who took the charge–and somewhat literally–as he exploded in his typical fashion. Naturally, all the band mates were happy that they’d found somewhere they wanted to call home, but they were upset that they were moving so far away. The average-height ginger made no bones about thinking his bassist, at the very least, was being an idiot in wanting to move so far away. GN’R was still in the middle of recording what was supposed to be their second album, despite being well-known now.

Eventually, he seemed to run outta steam, his chest heaving as he caught his breath after the rant they’d been forced to wait out. That was the point at which Duff turned a somewhat cold look on his vocalist, although it wasn’t nearly as cold as the one Belle’d once turned on her own mother. He made it quite clear that this wasn’t open for discussion, that their minds’d already been made up and they were going through with it. After all, their offer’d been accepted, so the guys could either be supportive and help them move, or they could forget they ever existed. None of them were willing to put up with any narcissism, and considering the other part of their news, they needed all the friendly support they could get.

“Look, we’re all more than sick of all the drinking, drugging, and partying going on,” he said, his tone level and even–more so than was normal, even for him.

“Duff and I’ve been sober for three Years, even if four months of that Time was spent in the Future,” Bobby agreed. “Ya think it’s very easy for us to stick to our guns with even our girlfriend having an occasional beer, or the very rare few shots?”

Every single head in the room with the exception of said girlfriend shook in a negative response.

“Exactly–we’ve a helluva Time resisting those old urges since we’re recovering alcoholics,” the younger bassist said. “We let Belle get away with it ’cuz most Times, she actually locks herself in another room and won’t come out, if she decidesta drink.”

“Not only that, but you’ve seen how she keeps herself on a leash for yourselves,” his musical counterpart added.

“None of the rest of ya do that–hell, ya take it further than she’d ever Dream of on a daily and even Nightly basis,” Duff continued.

“Since they can’t handle that any more than I can stand being walked in on yet again, we decided to look for our own place,” the lone woman said. “If ya wanna blame anyone for picking Tennessee, blame me. I got sick of these two arguing over Miami or Seattle, and some of the places in Tenn’re kinda like an even cross between the two, as long as ya subtract having a Beach nearby.”

“Then explain that part, ’cuz that’s the part we’re not getting,” Axl demanded, almost immediately regretting his harsh tone when a look of utter Fury crossed her face.

“’Cuz it’s Mountainous, cold, and mostly Snowy with a lil bit of Ice during the Winter,” Belle growled as she got right in his face, knowing he’d never hit her. “That’s pretty much the epitome of where Duff grew up, is it not?”

The ginger before her audibly gulped as he nodded.

“During the Summer, it’s as hot and humid as Florida, maybe even more so,” she continued, that growl still tinting her voice. “And I say it might be more so, ’cuz that far inland, you’re not gonna have that constant Breeze blowing in off the Atlantic or the Gulf like ya would in Florida.”

“Sounds exactly like the kinda place Bobby’d wanna move to,” Bret mused with a thoughtful nod.

“My point exactly. It gives _all_ of us a lil bit of what we’re looking for in the location of our home, not just suiting one of us and leaving the others shit-outta-Luck,” the young woman said as she flopped back down on the couch.

“And considering the other part of our news…” Bobby trailed off. “Well, we need to agree and get along as much as we possibly can right now.”

“Having as much support from family and friends as possible won’t hurt, either,” the younger bassist agreed.

The remainder of Poison and GN’R both shot them curious looks, and the older of the bassists couldn’t help the goofy grin that stretched his face. He gave his shared girlfriend a look, not wanting to jump the gun and spill the beans, if she wanted to do so, herself. Belle chuckled as she smiled and nodded at him, making him practically bounce in his seat like a lil kid before he turned his attention back to the others.

Pleasant surprise colored all their features when he broke the news of the young woman’s newly-discovered pregnancy to them. They were certainly surprised ’cuz, even though they’d been together for the past three Years, they’d all been told that Belle didn’t want kids. Not only that, but the Timing of such a Life-Changing event was surprising, considering how busy both bands’d been lately. There wasn’t a single argument to the statement that sometimes, these kinda things just couldn’t be planned, but they also knew they’d been doing everything they could to prevent such an occurrence.

With that bit of news broken, the rest of the guys couldn’t exactly blame them for wanting to get their own place, even though that hadn’t even been a factor to start with. Now that they’d a lil one on the way, no matter who the biological father was, they were gonna need more Space for everybody. In addition to that, none of the rest of them wanted to listen to a baby crying all the Time after the Birth, so it was even better that they were wanting their own place.

“That’s not to be taken as we don’t wantcha around at all anymore,” Rikki was quick to say.

“We just couldn’t handle a screaming baby, or the temper tantrums when they’re older,” Bret added with a chuckle.

The young woman simply snickered, a knowing smirk on her face since she knew damn good and well just about every single guy in the room was gonna be a daddy to at least one before he died.

“No offense taken, guys,” Duff chuckled. “’Cuz we get it–parenting ain’t gonna be easy for us, nor would we’ve the Space for the entirety of each band, plus a kid’s stuff in this place or the _Hell House.”_

“So that just cements our desire to find our own place,” the older bassist said.

“Even if we hadn’t wanted to before, we _would_ now,” Belle agreed, absently rubbing her belly like a lotta expectant mothers did.

“I think the main question prolly all of us want answered,” Izzy said, a thoughtful look on his face. “How can ya be so sure this kid’s actually Bobby’s?”

“The Timing,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Doc swears by my being six weeks, give or take a couple Days.”

Several brows rose in curious confusion when she told them that.

“Six weeks ago, I was with mostly Bobby,” the young woman explained. “Duff was going into the studio so early and staying so late that there were about three weeks that I pretty much didn’t sleep with him at all, if ya don’t count cuddling in my sleep _without_ sex.”

“Which means that while this kid _could_ be mine, it’s highly unlikely,” the younger bassist said.

“If it turned out to be Duff’s, I think we’d all be surprised enough to fall into a barrel of tits and come up sucking our thumbs,” Bobby laughed.

Everybody burst into raucous laughter at that particular phrase, most wondering just where the hell he’d gotten it from. As it turned out, his shared girlfriend had learned a lotta different military insults and other lingo–for what reason, she wouldn’t divulge–and it’d rubbed off. Having grown up the son of a WWII veteran, Duff could corroborate that military men tended to use a lotta crazy shit like that as their insults, particularly to one’s physical ability and Intelligence–or lack thereof.

Despite being relatively unhappy that their bassists were moving clean across the country, the rest of the band members agreed to pull together as a moving crew for them. They could all see that there was no Changing the young trio’s minds, and trying to resist was only gonna cause stress and strife. In fact, considering how strong-Willed both bassists were, they wouldn’t put quitting the bands beneath them, if it came down to it.

Said young trio was glad to hear that they’d more than enough help to pack and move their shit, especially considering how far they’d to move it. The one rule they laid down was no drinking or drugging on their property, even if that meant someone wound up in a Corn field or something. None of them wanted that shit done around them as it was, and they certainly didn’t want it adding to any Energy already there, whether it was good or bad. That brought Belle back to her previous conversation with her boyfriends, which was when she told them that one of the first things she Intended to do was give the place a good Smudging. From top to bottom, every nook and cranny she could possibly manage to fan Smoke into, even the ventilation system.

All of them were surprised to hear that, but they were actually pretty interested, if only ’cuz she didn’t talk about her Spiritual beliefs very much. While her boyfriends were fairly well-schooled in the lil bit she was knowledgeable on, the others were about as clueless as it got. They were like lil kids as they listened to her explain the premise behind the Ancient Native American practice, as well as and Ancient European one about the man of the house Blessing the hearth before moving in. Even as she moved on to an Ancient Roman practice about Blessing property Stones, none of them realized that the Sun’d set on a pretty eventful Day.


	9. Eight

Over the next couple months, Poison and GN’R combined Forces to get Bobby, Belle, and Duff moved into their new home in Kingsport, Tenn. It took about a week to have their belongings–which’d gotten loaded up in a fifty-three-footer hauled by a big rig–to arrive at their destination, but that was okay. During the Time they waited, the young woman was able to go through the house and give it a helluva Smudging with Smudge sticks she’d bought from a Pagan shop she’d found. A mixture of White Sage and Cedar, she knew damn good and well that if this didn’t drive away anything negative in the house and otherwise on the property, there was no point in trying anything else besides getting a religious leader in there for an exorcism.

Another thing she did was make sure the Hearth Blessing was performed before they officially started moving into the house. Since they could both technically share the role, both bassists worked in tandem as the man of the house to perform the Ritual, which was actually a lot simpler than they’d thought it’d be. Not only was it pretty simple, it also made them feel more powerful than they’d ever felt in all the best ways possible. It was certainly something they’d never expecting to have happen to them, but they’d felt that way a lot recently.

The one thing the young trio did together was Blessing the Stonesta be put at the four corners of their new property by calling on the Roman God, Terminus. It was a Ritual that was technically supposed to be done by the head of the household, but they wanted to keep things as even and Balanced as they could. Since Bobby and Duff were both technically the man of the house, they were effectively the God of their household. Belle was essentially the Goddess of said household, what with being the head female of their lil, but growing family. As far as they were concerned, it wasn’t just the males of the Nature Spirits and other household Guardians that were to be Honored, but the females, as well. Man might be stronger and faster than woman, but without woman to carry, bear, and nurture his young, man’d never survive.

It was the Boundary Stone Blessing that was Intended to protect the Land, and therefore the family that lived on it, as well as bring about Prosperity. None of them felt the need to put such Stones all the way down each property line, for Energy could Travel through just about anything. As long as there was a Boundary Stone at each corner of their property, there’d essentially be an imaginary line connecting one to the next. That’d give the effect of drawing a square, thus boxing them in kinda like a protective Circle would for any kinda spell work, if the young woman’d been into such a thing.

“So, that’s it?” Axl asked once the last Stone’d been set into place.

“Yeah, that’s all there is to it,” she chuckled, her younger boyfriend rising from where he’d knelt. He and Bobby’d taken turns placing each of the Stones, and his second one was the final one.

“Huh, seemed like it’d be a lot more complicated,” Izzy mused.

“There’s a lot to Paganism that seems complicated, but really ain’t,” the young woman told him.

“Well, what’s next on the agenda?” Rikki asked curiously. “’Cuz it’s not like the big rig’s arrived with your shit yet.”

“Finding out who–or what–if anything’s haunting this place,” Belle answered. “The previous owner mentioned something about feeling like some kinda Spirit was here, and that being why they were so eager to sell the place.”

“Wait, what?” His GN’R counterpart seemed a bit freaked at the mere Thought.

“Relax, Popcorn,” she laughed. “Not all Spirits’re bad–some just choose to stick around where they’re comfortable, others actually have a message to impart or something.”

“Others still actually aren’t really Spirits in the sense of being an intelligent haunting,” Bobby added. “They’re a haunting, but they’re more like a memory imprint that plays like a broken record.”

“Really?” Even Slash seemed to be getting interested.

“There’s one such case from Hawaiian Lore about _Night Marchers,”_ the young woman explained. “When a being dies a sudden, traumatic Death, the amount of powerful Energy involved can leave an imprint kinda like leaving your handprint in a freshly-poured concrete sidewalk.”

“Does it really replay itself like a broken record?” he asked curiously.

“Oh, yeah–pretty much till the End of Time,” Belle answered, nodding. “Another such case–or at least one that _I_ think falls under that kinda category–is the Phantom Piper of a Castle in Scotland.”

The young woman told the story of the Duntrune Piper as she knew it, and to say it was fascinating, but gruesome was an understatement. According to legend, the apparently-nameless man’d been the piper of his clan–particularly during battle–meaning that he held a fairly high status, compared to other non-Noble and -Royal folk of Medieval Times.

Left at Duntrune to defend the keep, even though he technically wasn’t a soldier, the piper watched his master sail away. He was on his own for months on End, and during that Time, a neighboring clan’d been plotting to seize the Castle and anyone who resided within. The piper was taken prisoner, but he wasn’t thrown in the dungeon like most woulda thought he’d been, considering he was essentially a hostage. Instead, he was allowed to roam the Castle freely, including the battlements at its top where he could look out over the Sea. No one thought he’d betray the attacking clan, who were plotting to take his master prisoner once he Returned, but they underestimated his Loyalty and its Strength.

Upon seeing his master’s ship on the horizon, the piper took up his bagpipes and Began to play a familiar tune that he knew his master’d recognize. Even from a distance, he’d heard it far too many Times for it not to jog any memories as it was carried to his ears on the Winds. However, the ever-crafty piper made a slight Change in the song’s count, not to mention the notes he actually played, that turned it from a more upbeat tune to one of warning.

His master understood his Hidden message to him and gave the order to turn his ship away from Danger, which he’d have unknowingly sailed right into, if not for his loyal piper. The piper’d supposedly heaved a sigh of relief and smiled out over the view as he watched his master make the turn for safety, but he’d pay the price. Found guilty of treason, despite not being loyal to the clan who’d taken him prisoner, he was sentenced to having his hands chopped off. Considering this was in the sixteenth or seventeenth Century, his wounds’d no doubt gotten heavily infected, caused sepsis to set in, and stolen his Life.

“Ever since his untimely Death, the piper’s been said to patrol the battlements and play that haunting tune to warn his long-dead master from afar,” Belle concluded, not surprised by the horrified looks she was getting.

“Fuck that shit,” pretty much everyone in the room spat in horrified disgust.

“What a gruesome way to go, man,” Rikki said with a shudder. “I couldn’t fuckin’ imagine losing my hands like that.”

“Seriously, dude,” Steven agreed. The curly-haired drummer was actually sober today, as per the ground rules laid down by the young trio.

“What would we do? Find a way to duct tape drumsticksta our stumps so we could still play or something?” he chuckled.

“Hey, what about those of us who play strings?” Izzy laughed.

“Yeah, what’re _we_ supposed to do?” his rhythm guitarist asked. “Gluing a guitar pick to one stump’s gonna go only so far!”

_“Touché,_ man,” he said with a grin.

“The point of the story wasn’t about how gruesome and horrific it was,” the young woman told them, recapturing their wandering attention. “The point was that, like the Hawaiian _Night Marchers,_ he’s supposed to be a residual haunting.”

“Wait, what’s that?” Axl asked, looking confused.

“That’s what Spirits that _don’t_ interact with the Living’re called,” she explained. “They’re kinda like an Energetic residue, if that makes any sense.”

_“Ahhhh,”_ the entire group chorused as they nodded their understanding.

“The Spirits that _do_ interact with the Living’re called _intelligent_ hauntings,” Belle continued. “They’re the ones that’ll Communicate via the five senses. People tend to see, hear, and smell various things, and feeling like you’re being touched when you’re really not is also pretty common.”

“Really?” CC asked. “You’re seriously not pulling our legs with that one?”

“Whyddaya ask that?” the young woman countered, her brow cocked curiously.

It took him a few moments, but the blonde lead guitarist finally admitted that he’d felt like somebody was running their fingers down his arm or the back of his neck several Times now. Every Time he’d turned to look, or reached up to swat away the hand touching him or bug crawling on him, his own hand came into contact with absolutely nothing. He’d chocked it up to a coke hallucination, despite having not used for a couple Days in preparation for today, but now he was starting to think it was something else.

Shooting him a somewhat mischievous grin, Belle reached over and ghosted her fingernails down the back to his neck to just above his shoulder blades. Poor CC couldn’t help stiffening before he shivered and quite literally shook her hand off, gooseflesh breaking out all the way down to his hands. When she asked if that was similar or identical to what he’d felt, he didn’t hesitate to nod vigorously as he confirmed what he’d felt.

The young woman admitted that she’d been feeling the same thing, but she’d known without having to attempt swatting away an unseen hand what’d been going on. After going on a few Ghost hunts with her mom and a couple of her mom’s friends, she’d discovered that she was relatively sensitive to the touch of a Spirit. She actually had to give a strong verbal statement that she wasn’t to be touched by _any_ Spirits, no matter their Intent, to get them to leave her alone when she didn’t wanna be touched. Most listened to her and refrained from touching her, but there were a few more malevolent ones that simply didn’t care and would do it anywhore, no matter how many Times she told them to cut it out.

Almost as soon as she shut her mouth, several of the other guys spoke up about having felt like they’d been touched and thought it was just one of the others trying to be funny. That told Belle that something was trying to get someone’s attention, although the reason why could be just about anything. It might be to have them pass on a message to someone, or simply ’cuz they wanted their story to be heard–the latter was all too common with Spirits, especially those that met tragic Ends. After all, if one listened when a Spirit wanted to talk, they might just help bring Justice to a murder victim whose case’d gone cold or something.

“Even if I hadn’t before, I’m starting to think an EVP session’s in order,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Bret asked, sounding curiously confused.

“EVP means _electronic voice phenomenon,”_ the young woman answered. “That means that something we might not hear with our nekkid ears can be caught on tape and heard when the recording’s played back.”

“So, how’re we supposed to do that?” Duff asked. He wanted to find out who or what was haunting his new home as much as she and the older bassist did.

“We’re gonna go inside so we know nothing like the Wind or passing traffic interferes since we’ll be in dead Silence,” Belle answered. “From there, you’re all gonna keep your mouths shut unless you’ve a question of your own and avoid making even the slightest rustle, which could contaminate the recording I’ma make.”

The group watched as she grabbed a bundle of something dried, her hand so steady that they couldn’t make out the slightest movement as she held one End of it to the Flame of her Zippo. It took a few momentsta really catch, but once it did, the scent that wafted from it made them all grimace as it pretty much assaulted their olfactory senses. Even though the pair of bassist recognized the scents as White Sage and Cedar, now that they’d been caught up in the middle of them before, that didn’t mean they liked them.

Each of the guys settled in an almost-perfect Circle in the middle of what was supposed to be the family room, according to the Realtor’s tour. As the older male of the household, Bobby settled so that he was directly in front of the fireplace, which woulda made him the fifth point, if they’d been making a living Pentacle. Since there were nine of them, though, they were making more of a Faerie ring than not, although Faerie Stars were seven-pointed. Maybe that made what they were making more of a Moon Circle, considering that the number nine was heavily-associated with the Moon and various Moon Deities. He’d have to ask his shared girlfriend later, or his Curiosity’d eat him alive till he got an answer, assuming she even had one.

Walking clockwise around the room three Times, Belle muttered something under her breath as she fanned the Smoke produced into every corner with a Raven Feather. Only when she got close enough did the older bassist realize she was saying _If you’re of negativity and Hate, you’re not allowed to show your face_ – _only Love and Light may enter this Space_. It made sense to him, ’cuz she’d said before that she didn’t mind cohabitating with Spirits, as long as they were at least neutral, but preferably benevolent. Anything negative wasn’t to remain in their home, and if she couldn’t get rid of it herself, she’d call in outside Forcesta do that for her.

After Smudging the room so that she’d Created her Sacred Space, the young woman settled the Smudge stick she’d been using into a dish of Sand. In the Center of a second one, she lit a piece of charcoal and let it burn till it was gray before dropping some kinda resin on it. The scents of Amber, Lavender, and Dragon’s Blood didn’t take long to start mingling with that of the burning herbs, and while it was a bit of a weird combination, her boyfriends knew she’d a reason for picking those scents.

“First and foremost, are ya human or inhuman?” she asked after settling in the Center of the Circle they’d made, a tape recorder in hand and a black Candle burning to her left, a white one to her right.

None of the guys move a muscle aside from breathing as she paused for a few seconds after asking her question.

“Regardless of which ya are, what’s your name?” Belle asked. She paused again after her question, giving any Spirits who Wished to Time to respond. “What’s your purpose for being here? Is it ’cuz you’re trapped against your Will, or ’cuz ya chose to remain of your own accord?”

“How long’ve ya been here?” Bobby asked curiously, having waited about the same amount of Time after his shared girlfriend’s question. “Has it been a long Time, or a short one?”

“Where’dja come from, if ya started out somewhere else?” the younger bassist asked, following the same pattern of pausing for a few moments between questions.

“If ya started out elsewhere, are ya trying to get back there?” the young woman asked. “If ya are, maybe one of us can help ya get to your destination.”

“But you’ve to let us know so we can look into it,” her older boyfriend stated clearly.

Holding up her hand, Belle hit the _Stop_ button on her tape recorder with her thumb. “Let’s take a listen and see if we got anything already. It might give us a better Direction to go in with our questions, if we do and did.”

Nodding, the guys waited for her to rewind the tape and hit the _Play_ button so they could hear.

“I just heard _Human,”_ Izzy said, looking surprised as they listened to the pause after the first question.

“So did I,” Bret agreed with another nod. “It’s faint, but I heard it.”

Everyone else in the group nodded, which allowed her to move on to the next question.

“I coulda sworn I just heard _Caroline,”_ Slash said, his brow furrowed.

“I heard _Carolyn,_ but it coulda been either/or,” the young woman argued gently. “If your name’s Caroline, knock on the wall once–if it’s Carolyn, knock on it twice.”

The entire group fell Silent and waited a few moments, all of the guys jumping as two clear knocks from nearby startled them.

“Can ya do that again so we’re absolutely sure it wasn’t the house settling or anything like that?” she asked.

_KNOCK KNOCK!_

“I think that settles it,” Rikki chuckled. “Well, nice to kinda, sorta meetcha, Miss Carolyn.”

After the group settled down from a round of soft chuckles, Belle hit the _Play_ button on her tape recorder again. They listened to the playback of her asking what the Spirit’s purpose for being here was, and whether they were trapped or here of their own accord. Less than a second after her voice faded, they heard a crackling again before a faint _My son,_ which was followed by _Kick in the ass_.

From the sound of it, the house was being haunted by a woman named Carolyn, who felt that her son needed a Fire lit under his ass. Why she’d think he needed that, they couldn’t say at the moment, and the young woman knew that her resident Spirit may never divulge that. In fact, she knew that whoever this woman’s son was, he may never get her message, whether he was the previous owner of the house or not. Recalling what Bobby’d told her right after they found out their offer’d been accepted, she deduced that this Spirit was most likely the previous owner’s mother, but she still wasn’t sure.

Continuing to listen to the tape again, they heard where he’d asked how long the Spirit’d been here, whether it was just in the house or the property as a whole. It took a couple moments after his voice’d died away for them to hear _1985,_ which meant that while Carolyn’d been here for a while, it hadn’t been as long as it coulda been. The older bassist motioned for the tape to be paused, and once it was, he revealed that the previous owner’d said his mother’d died a few Years ago, but wasn’t specific on how long ago.

Now even Duff was absolutely sure they were talking to that guy’s mother, and that she’d been the one causing whatever disturbance’d driven him to sell the house. It didn’t seem like she meant any real harm, but rather Intended to give him some kinda message from beyond her grave. The problem with that was that–like a lotta the Living–he hadn’t been receptive to any kinda contact from the Spirit Realm, so she hadn’t been able to complete her mission. Unfortunately, that was the case with a lotta Spirits who actually had some kinda business beyond seeking Justice for some kinda wrongdoing, up to and including murder. And since she was still here, even though he’d moved out, she could very well be trapped here, or simply tied to the property.

“I just heard _Started out here,”_ Steven blurted after they listened to the final question asked.

“Then what’s most likely’s that Miss Carolyn was one of the original owners,” Belle said. “Even if her name wasn’t actually on the deed, due to the Times, she coulda very well been the _wife_ of the original owner.”

“Not of _this_ house, though,” the older bassist specified. “The guy we bought it from tore down the house that was here previously when his mother died and rebuilt.”

“Which means that she’s likely tied to the Land, itself,” she added thoughtfully.

“Does that happen a lot or something?” Izzy asked curiously.

“More often than you’d think, actually,” the young woman answered, nodding. “Think about places like Gettysburg and other battlegrounds.”

“There might be a house or some other structure built on old battlegrounds now, but that doesn’t mean they’re what’s haunted,” Duff explained. “It’s the Land, itself that’s haunted–by all the Souls of those killed in whatever battle took place in that area.”

“Kinda like the Land occupied by unmarked graves tendsta be extremely haunted,” his shared girlfriend said. “I forget exactly where, but somewhere around Morgan City, Luzianna, there’s a field that’s nothing but a mass, unmarked grave of soldiers killed in a battle during the Civil War.”

“Jesus Christ,” almost everyone in the room breathed, their eyes widening.

“Imagine how haunted _that_ place is–and would still be, even if there was a house or some other building standing there,” Belle told them. “Residual, intelligent, or both, there’s bound to be _tons_ of Spirits roaming around out there.”

“But since it’s unlikely that Miss Carolyn’s buried here in the yard, considering how long she said she’s been here as a Spirit, she’s prolly just tied to the Land or something on it,” Bobby mused.

“There could be a Tree that she and her sweetheart carved their initials in like a lotta teenagers do with their first Loves,” she said. “If that Tree and the area immediately around it was special enough, she could be tied to it, but able to Manifest anywhere on the property.”

She wasn’t surprised when Axl asked if a Spirit could attach themselvesta just about anything once they died, which made her chuckle. It was definitely possible, but if the original house’d been torn down, that wasn’t as likely a possibility unless something of hers’d been in it and accidentally gotten buried here. Besides, not everybody’d any one object that they loved so dearly, they’d feel the need to attach themselvesta it after their physical Death like she did.

That statement piqued even her boyfriends’ Curiosity, although they–if no one else–shoulda known what she meant by that. But even still, Bobby and Duff were a bit surprised when she said that she was so possessive of her bass that–if she were to attach herself to an object after her Death–it’d most likely be that. Neither of them’d thought she loved that instrument quite that much, but when they thought about it, they knew she was speaking the Truth. She wouldn’t even let either one of them touch it unless it was cased, or they were in a Calm enough frame of mind that they wouldn’t even scratch it. Course, that instrument meant more to her than she’d normally say aloud, and since they knew why, it made complete sense.

Given that the few questions they’d posed thus far’d been answered and Belle advised against pestering the Dead too much, they decided it was Time to get started on lunch. She made sure to thank Miss Carolyn for her Time before leaving her Candlesta burn themselves out alongside her Smudge stick and Incense. After all, it was pretty rude to make such a request of anyone, alive or dead, and not express one’s thanks afterward.

Without any of their furniture and still needing to shop for appliances, they were left with nothing but a grill they found out back, unless they felt like doing takeout. The young woman told the guysta avoid Chinese at all costs, if they went with the latter option, ’cuz she already couldn’t tolerate the scent of Asian food. Being pregnant, she was pretty sure catching even the slightest whiff of it’d just aggravate what lil Morn sickness she was already experiencing, and she didn’t want that. All of the guys were agreeable enough to pizza, and she couldn’t help a soft laugh at their arguments over toppings as she headed off for a potty break.


	10. Nine

Since they weren’t in any kinda real rush to get it done, the young trio decided to unpack only the most important shit right after moving into their new home. With a new baby on the way, they were more concerned with doing the bare minimum of baby shopping since both bassists were supposed to be hitting the road again before the End of the Year. In not knowing what the baby’s gender was, they decided to get a full nursery set in both a Dark and fairly Light finish, the latter being something along the lines of White Oak. They’d officially pick a set once they knew what they were having, then either Return the one they didn’t use or keep it in case they needed it in the Future.

Bobby was the first to head out on tour again, and for once, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to such an occurrence. Poison might be hitting the road for a tour in support of their third album, _Flesh and Blood,_ but that didn’t mean he’d to enjoy missing the anniversary of his handfasting a couple months afterward. Not only that, but unless the baby was born during his Christmas break, he wouldn’t even be home for the Birth, which was supposed to be sometime in late-November, early-December.

Just Days after being able to sneak back home for an anniversary celebration they’d never forget, the young mama-to-be was left completely alone when even Duff headed out on tour. It was technically GN’R’s second major tour, that in support what became their second _and_ third album, _Use Your Illusion_. Axl’d pushed for so much material that they were forced to split it into two volumes, ’cuz the CDs that people’d really started using in the past Year or so and cassettes both could hold only so much. The funny thing was that the dual album hadn’t even been officially released when they packed up and hit the road, and wouldn’t be for another month.

Left at home by herself and not wanting to air condition half the neighborhood by having windows open the whole Time, Belle’d held off on painting the nursery till one or both her guys were back. She couldn’t call them her boys anymore, ’cuz not only were both starting to mature more, but the baby she carried was a baby boy and referring to his daddies as _boys_ just didn’t feel right anymore.

_“Oof!”_ Looking down at her bulging belly when a decently hard kick got her attention, the young woman couldn’t help a chuckle as the rubbed the growing orb. “Sheesh, baby boy–settle down in there. A dojo, Mama most certainly ain’t.”

A few squirming movements seemed to answer her by way of apology, considering that her son wouldn’t have been able to talk, even if he’d been born yet.

“I know, I know–chu miss Daddy as much as Mama does,” she sighed. “Mama’s just hoping him’s home in Time for teh big Day.”

As it stood, her due date wasn’t quite a month after Bobby’s twenty-seventh birthday, and if she popped right on Time–well, he’d still be out on the road. If that were to happen, he’d either completely miss his son’s Birth as if he were a military man on an overseas tour of duty, or he’d be scrambling to make it back before he did. Neither of those Thoughts were very pleasant for either of them, but the young woman didn’t really like the Thought of going past her due date, either. Despite its trials and tribulations, pregnancy’d been pleasant, but grueling–she didn’t wanna drag out the miserable parts longer than she absolutely had to.

It wasn’t long before Belle found herself in the kitchen to graze once again, an all-too-common occurrence these Days. Her son took up so much room in her already-short torso that she couldn’t seem to eat more than a few bites at a Time before she’d start feeling full. Daring to even try a single bite once she reached that point usually left her feeling nauseous, and trying two more tended to send her scrambling for at least a trash can.

In the midst of her grazing, she heard the front door open, making her glad she’d propped up the shotgun she’d bought against the counter next to her. Part of her knew it might be one or both of her guys, considering that there’d been a couple Times that they’d show up for a surprise visit, if they’d enough Time off between shows. That, or they’d tell her they’d be home around a certain Time on one Day, but really have plansta be home earlier than what they said as a way of surprising her. And this wouldn’t be the first Time one or both of them’d startled her into greeting them at gunpoint, although the last Time’d been with a pea-shooter, not a boom-stick.

Bobby was more than a bit startled to walk into the kitchen and see his wife training her shotgun on him, a hand flying up to his chest as he essentially screeched to a stop. Said wife took a moment to register who she was looking at, then made sure the safety was engaged and set the gun aside with a laugh. He didn’t exactly think it was a laughing matter, but he wasn’t about to start _that_ argument–or _any_ that was unnecessary–with a hormonal, pregnant woman who’d been home alone.

“Jesus, sweetheart–trying to gimme a heart attack or something?” he managed to chuckle, still sounding a bit shaken as his heart rate Calmed. “I thoughtcha wanted me to be here to help raise this booger.”

“Oh, I _do_ wantcha around for that,” Belle laughed, grinning into the kiss he gave her as he gently rubbed her belly. “And so does the booger in question, considering how they’ve been kicking me all Day.”

“Still haven’t found out the gender?” the older bassist asked, still amazed by how firm her belly felt, despite seeming to have a bit of give to it.

“Lil brat won’t cooperate,” she answered, the lie rolling off the tip of her tongue with ease. She knew how much her older boyfriend wanted a son, and how the anticipation of finding out was eating at him, so she liked messing with him like this.

“Aw, damn it,” Bobby chuckled, still grinning, even as he snapped his fingers. “I was hoping this homecoming’d tell me whether it was a boy or a girl.”

“I thought we’d already agreed that gender doesn’t really matter as much as Health and safety,” the young woman laughed.

“We did, but I’d still like to know before the big Day gets here,” he said with a teasing grin.

“Well, apparently this booger’s other plans in mind for Daddy,” Belle giggled.

The older bassist mock groaned and rubbed her belly again as he mildly complained about their booger already trying to drive him crazy before they were even born. She managed to hold her tongue on actually knowing it was a boy, glad she was such a good actress when she wanted to be. Otherwise, there was no way in Hell she coulda managed to keep the gender Secret, considering she’d known for a month already.

Given that she’d only gotten a couple bites of her snack so far, Bobby decided it was Time for an actual meal, considering he’d been hungry when he got home. He promised not to go with anything _too_ big, despite his Love of cooking, so there wouldn’t be as many leftoversta have to deal with. Then again, having a lotta leftovers might be a good thing for thing, what with the way his shared wife sometimes got up in the middle of the Night to graze. At least she’d have something that was more fulfilling than chips, but didn’t require pretty much sleep-cooking, which could cause her to hurt herself.

As he was working on their small, simple dinner, the phone on the wall next to him started to ring, but he’d no clean handsta answer it with. His wife was quick to snatch the receiver outta its cradle since she was within arm’s reach of it, her tone sounding curious when she answered. Judging by the smile that lit up Belle’s face and how she dragged over one of the bar stools with her foot seconds later, he could only assume it was Duff calling from wherever he was in the World. He couldn’t remember where GN’R was supposed to be at the moment, but that was just how tour Life was–confusing and full of memory gaps and fun.

The older bassist couldn’t help the smile that Graced his face as he listened to Belle’s side of the conversation, which included quite a bit of laughter. But then again, if there was one thing he knew about his musical counterpart without a doubt, it was that he was actually more of a goofball than he was, himself. Even when he was feeling particularly down-in-the-dumps, he could get just about anyone to laugh like their shared girl.

By the Time he’d gotten dinner finished up, the younger bassist’d to End the phone call ’cuz he was supposed to have a show tonight. Provided that Axl didn’t pull his diva stunt of not storming the stage till three or four hours _after_ they were supposed to be onstage, he was supposed to be performing within the hour. If the ginger pulled _that_ stunt again, though–well, the younger band may or may not have a show by the End of the Night, after all. The rest of the band was getting sick of his antics, particularly Duff–those antics were causing the others with the exception of Izzy, who’d gotten cleaned up in ’89, to go overboard with the drugs and booze more than they ever had in the Past.

“Sounds like he’s having a crazy Time out there–and I mean that in more ways than one,” Bobby said as he set her plate down in front of her once she’d moved back to the small island.

“Yeah, things’re definitely pretty crazy,” the young woman agreed, nodding as she dug in. “I’ll be surprised if he lasts in the band beyond this tour–and not ’cuz he gets fired.”

“Whyddaya say that?” he asked curiously. He and Duff didn’t really talk about the inner workings of their bands with one another, but he’d been starting to wonder if the blonde was thinking more or less the same things he was.

“Well, Izzy’s the only other one who’s really and truly sober,” Belle explained between bites. “You know from your own experience that living in a rolling Tin can under such circumstances ain’t the easiest thing to do.”

“Far from it,” the older bassist agreed with a nod of his own. “I can’t tell ya how many Times I’ve nearly crammed a bottle down someone’s throat, or up their ass, for doing that shit in front of me.”

“Now add in the shit like coke and smack, and it only makes it worse for those two,” she dead-panned.

Bobby nodded so she’d know to continue since he was in the middle of chewing when she trailed off.

“That being said, we both know y’all’ve a lot in common,” the young woman said. “He’s too dedicated, and simply too good a guy, to just abandon them right in the middle of a tour unless he abso-fuckin’-lutely hasta do such a thing.”

“Which means that he’d finish out the tour, if nothing else, and only ’cuz he’d already agreed to it _before_ this shit ever started,” he mused.

“Exactly, but once whatever prior obligation he’d signed up for was done–well, he won’t agree to such shit again, if I know him half as well as I’d like to think I know _either_ of y’all,” Belle told him.

He honestly couldn’t say that he disagreed with that statement, given that he was already considering quitting his own band while he was still ahead. There were things happening that he hadn’t bothered trying to tell his wife about over the phone, not ’cuz he was trying to hide it, but ’cuz the story was too long for most of the phone calls they managed to have. Generally, he didn’t have more than a few minutesta talk to her at a Time, and when he did, he preferred catching up on their personal Lives and the occasional phone sex.

As he started cleaning up from dinner once they’d finished their food, Bobby recounted the story of one Night in particular where he’d thought Poison’d reached its End. CC’d been higher than the uppermost layer of the atmosphere and in a brawling kinda mood, where even just smiling at him made him wanna fight. He’d originally gotten in a fight with him, but Rikki’d managed to pull the midget guitarist off him since he really hadn’t wanted to fight him or anyone else that Night. The next thing they knew, said midget was turning his sights on their vocalist, who _was_ in a mood to fight and gave him a run for his money that Night. Before it was all said and done, the shortest blonde’d been left at that Luzianna hotel to hitchhike to their next tour stop.

Belle couldn’t help a wince at the Thought of getting left behind in the Bayou, the Seasonal Change having allowed bone-chilling cold to settle into the area. She was definitely surprised that the older band hadn’t called it quits right then and there, cashed in their chips, and hung up their hats, so to speak. If it’d been her, she’d have certainly packed up her equipment, made arrangementsta have it shipped home, and gotten on a flight bound for home. Part of her was surprised that her husband had managed to stay out on the road after that, but another part of her was far from surprised. Like she’d said just a short while ago, he was a lot like Duff in fulfilling his prior engagements before calling it quits on something.

Now that they’d eaten and cleaned up from dinner, they decided to just relax in the family room before they headed into their master suite. As much as he wanted some action tonight, Bobby wasn’t about to push her beyond cuddling, if only to avoid pissing her off. He was happy enough with just cuddling, considering she was closing in on her due date, ’cuz he knew she coulda cut him off altogether.

Another month passed, and by that Time, Belle was pushing two weeks overdue with the baby boy she was carrying. GN’R’d played their last show before a Winter break on December eleventh at the Royal Highland Centre in Edinburgh, Britain, while Poison’d played their last show before such a break two Days later. The difference was that the older band had been at the Chelsea Studios in New York City, so they’d been closer to home than their musical rivals.

Either way, her guys’d gotten home pretty quickly, and they were looking forward to not having to go back on the road again till December thirtieth and January eighteenth, respectively. They both needed the long break after all the Insanity they’d dealt with since August and October when each of their bands’d hit the road again, especially the poor, brunette bassist.

But since she was overdue at this point, at least he could say that he hadn’t missed his baby’s Birth, nor would have to scramble home to try making it before it actually happened. And while he wasn’t too thrilled about leaving them again so soon after, if she popped in the next few Days, and least she’d have Duff here to help her for a while longer after he left. Hopefully by the Time the blonde bassist rejoined his own band, they’d have gotten the baby on a somewhat decent schedule so he’d allow her to sleep through the Night with few, if any interruptions. The possibility of such a Thought certainly made his father sleep a lil better–well, that was when his mother wasn’t keeping said father awake with her discomfort.

Getting woken up right around Dawn by a pained groan startled Bobby and Duff both enough that they almost immediately bolted upright. Since she’d a bout of false labor once already, they couldn’t be too sure whether her body was fuckin’ with all of them again. Even though she was two weeks overdue, they knew that this might be nothing more than a rogue contraction, or another bout of false labor. However, the bed suddenly winding up soaked underneath all of them was a dead giveaway that this was no joke–it was go-Time, and they’d better get their asses in gear.

“Just breathe, sweetheart,” the older bassist said as he hugged her and rubbed her back.

“Till you’ve to push a Melon outta your crotch and have your innards shredding and wringing ’emselves beforehand, don’t tell me to _just breathe!”_ Belle snapped.

Neither of the guys could really blame her for snapping, if the pain was even half as bad as their mothers swore it was.

“Fuck, I’m _definitely_ getting an epidural once they tell me that I can,” she whimpered. “I’ve a crazy-high pain tolerance, but somebody’ll wind up dead by Day’s End, if I don’t.”

“Hey, I don’t think either of us’re gonna stop ya,” Duff chuckled, coming outta the closet with the bags they’d packed.

“As long as you’re of sound mind when making such a decision, _I’m_ definitely not,” Bobby agreed. “I’d like to seen another Sunset, at the very least, not to mention come outta this with my nuts still attached between my legs, not to the side of my head or something.”

The young woman couldn’t help a giggle at the Thought of his sac being sutured to the side of his head, or even the back of it, by the Time this boy was born.

“See, there’s the giggle we both love to hear,” he said with a chuckle of his own.

“You’re not gonna hear very much of it till I get that epidural, unfortunately,” Belle warned them. “That pain was already pretty bad, and it’s just gonna get worse.”

Nodding as they worked together, the pair of bassists soon got her out to the Chevy Blazer she’d bought after they moved out to Tenn. It was mostly up to the older bassist to help her outside, which made sense, considering that he was most likely the father of this child. The younger bassist hung back enough to lock up the house, their bags hanging from his shoulders as he did so before turning to join them.

Despite having suffered from panic attacks since he was a teenager, Duff was able to keep his cool so that he’d actually be of use to his shared girlfriend. It was a bit of a struggle for him, but he was able to do it, and a lotta the things said girlfriend had taught him since they met helped with that. He’d even recently Grounded and Centered himself, which certainly helped with keeping his cool right now, rather than completely losing his shit. Still, having to listen to her pained moans and groans, not to mention Bobby’s soft Curses from when she’d grab his hand in a Death grip, wasn’t easy in the least.

At the hospital, the medical staff tried to keep the younger bassist outta the room Belle was taken to, which made the young woman make a litany of threats toward them. They could tell by the hard, glacial look in her eyes as she made them that she wasn’t kidding about using everything she could get her hands on, even a ventilator, to torture them in the most sadistic way she could before she killed them. While they were fairly used to laboring mothers making threats, they weren’t used to this kinda demeanor going along with them.

It didn’t take long for the staff to acquiesce to her one demand–that both her guys get to be with her right now–and leave the trio alone. The older bassist refused to leave her side, even when he was dying for a cigarette since that was the one vice neither guy’d given up as of yet. Duff actually had to drag him outside for some Air–whether fresh or toxic, it didn’t matter–just so he wouldn’t stress himself out too much. Even though he knew it’d be a while before the baby’s Birth, he couldn’t help not wanting to leave his wife’s side through it all. As far as he was concerned, it was his fault that this’d happened since she wouldn’t have conceived without his sperm, and he felt the need to take any abuse she inflicted upon him for it.

* * *

Eighteen hours–two of which were spent pushing–and at least six dozen Curses and twelve of murderous threats later, Bobby and Belle were the proud new parents of a son. The older bassist’d been ecstatic to hear the obstetrician cry out _It’s a boy!_ as she moved to lay the newborn on his exhausted mama’s chest. He’d gotten the son he’d wanted ever since finding out she was pregnant, and to find out that he was perfectly healthy was just the icing on the cake, so to speak.

At the moment, said exhausted new mama was getting some well-deserved rest, curled up against Duff’s side as the younger bassist cuddled her sleeping form. She’d actually knocked out before the medical staff could get her moved to a recovery room after they’d cleaned up the mess left by the delivery. Course, since she’d been unable to sleep during her labor–even after getting the epidural–they weren’t surprised by that.

The older bassist sat in a recliner next to her bed, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, as he snuggled his new son. Named as much for his daddy’s career as his mama’s roots, Zeppelin Bentley Kuykendall snoozed peacefully where he’d practically burrowed under said daddy’s flesh. Despite only being a couple hours old, he’d practically pulled his lil receiving blanket over his head as if trying to hide–or at least cut down on the slight draft wafting down into it. After all, he wasn’t used to the much-chillier environment outside the womb, so whether he was actually cold-Natured or not, he was bound to behave like that at first. However, they were reassured that as his brain learned to regulate his temperature, he’d give up that behavior over Time.

Bobby couldn’t help the giddy grin on his face as he looked down on the newborn’s peacefully-sleeping face–well, what he could see of it. There was no doubt about him being his after they’d gotten him cleaned up, ’cuz while it was pretty much impossible to tell exactly where his eye Color’d come from, he’d definitely gotten his eyes. The older bassist’s tilted slightly downward at the outer corners, rather than upward like Belle’s did, and the baby’s also had that slightly-downward tilt. He also seemed to’ve gotten more of his daddy’s hawk nose, remnants of his Native American heritage, but his mother’s full, pink lips.

“It seems so surreal, lil man,” he murmured. “To be sitting here, holding ya in my arms, after watching Mama grow and blossom with ya.”

Zeppelin didn’t move a muscle aside from breathing, which still freaked his daddy out a lil bit since he breathed so much faster due to being so much smaller.

“Kinda felt the same way to me when I got to hold him, too, man.”

Looking up, he saw Duff watching him with the baby from where he was still cuddling the exhausted new mama, who was well and thoroughly knocked out.

“It seems more like a Dream than Reality, to actually see him instead of this kinda Ghostly lil face on an ultrasound,” the younger bassist chuckled.

“Yeah, it really does,” Bobby agreed, nodding as he grinned. “Like, I wasn’t expecting to feel so protective over a person, my flesh and blood or not. But actually seeing and holding him–well, now I get what Belle means when she says she’d lay down her own Life for us, if it came right down to it.”

“I should hope you’d have laid down _yours_ long before now, if ya had to,” he laughed, careful to keep his volume down.

“Well, yeah–but it’s just… I dunno, it’s different, talking that way about my child versus the woman I chose to make my wife,” the older bassist tried to explain.

“Hey, I kinda get it,” Duff told him. “’Cuz even though I doubted it was true, I went through this entire pre-nancy thinking like I’m sure you are–that this was _my_ baby, and that I’d do anything for them, even if it meant dying for them.”

“Which I’m not surprised by,” he chuckled. “I mean, we didn’t know for sure, even though we’d a pretty good idea the whole Time. I’d be more surprised to find outcha _hadn’t_ been thinking like that than I’d be, if Zep’d turned out to really be yours.”

“But regardless of whose he is, I’d still lay my Life down for him,” the younger bassist admitted. “And I should hope you’d feel and do the same, if the roles’re ever reversed.”

Bobby was vehement when he nodded, knowing that he’d always love any child his shared wife delivered like his own, regardless of who the child’s father was. Well, that was as long as the child had been Created outta Love, not Force or coercion on anyone’s part, no matter whose it was. He wasn’t too sure he could bring himself to love a child Created outta rape or something, especially if the young woman couldn’t, just ’cuz of the circumstances.

It wasn’t long before a pediatric nurse came into take Zeppelin to the newborn nursery for observation and so that all of the trio could get some rest. Even though he didn’t wanna let his newborn son go, the older bassist eventually turned the baby over to the young woman. He was still slow to bid his goodbyes, which gave even Duff Time to bid goodbyes of his own, before he was finally taken away.

Feeling like the last of whatever Energy reserves he was miraculously still running on was suddenly drained, the new daddy settled back in the recliner he’d been in. He felt like he hadn’t slept since sometime that Summer, what with having been off the road for a total of three Days and now this. The younger bassist couldn’t help a soft chuckle as he seemed to age by at least a decade right before his eyes from his exhaustion catching up with him. And the last thing he heard with any kinda Clarity before he passed out at last was the blonde’s promise to keep an eye out for Belle when she woke up.


	11. Ten

Three Days after Zeppelin was born, mother and son were released from the hospital with clean Bills of Health. Like the ever-dutiful and loving boyfriend, Duff’d gone home to make sure the base for the carrier was strapped into the back seat properly, not to mention get more clean clothes. And he was so quick about it that he was actually back at the hospital before they’d finished up the discharge paperwork, which gave him Time to figure out exactly how to get the baby strapped into his carrier while his parents were busy.

As was typical of a new mother, Belle settled in the back seat next to her newborn, one of the most tender and loving looks on her face as she did. The lil guy was snoozing again, now that he’d been strapped in and squirmed into a comfy position with his lil chin resting on his chest. He still reflexively grabbed his mother’s finger when she gently caressed his palm, which made both of the bassists grin giddily.

Bobby was stuck riding shotgun, even though he’d have preferred being in the back seat on his son’s other side since he wasn’t driving this Time. His long legs just didn’t allow him to get in the back, though, even if he was on the passenger’s side so that the younger bassist sliding the driver’s seat back to accommodate his own long legs didn’t bother him. But he contented himself with knowing they were safe and healthy, and that he’d be able to see them, if he simply turned and looked over the console. Not only that, but once they got home, he’d be able to cuddle with both of them all he wanted, rather than being separated by an annoying, but necessary piece of baby furniture.

Upon pulling up at the house, the new parents were a bit surprised to see the rest of both Poison and GN’R waiting in the front yard. Holding up a banner that said _Welcome home, Belle and Zeppelin!,_ they knew this’d to be Duff’s doing, especially when added to the younger bassist’s shit-eating grin. They were surprised to see that they’d come to essentially throw a welcome home party, but they were more than a bit glad, too. Even if things within each band were strained, this showed that they could still band together to celebrate the good things in each others’ Lives, too.

“Damn, girl!” Bret said, his grin somehow growing even wider once she was outta her Blazer and could be seen.

“Only three Days out, andja don’t even _look_ like ya just popped out a whopper!” Rikki laughed.

“Oh, he’s a whopper, all right,” she retorted with a laugh. “Took me two hoursta get his Turkey butt outta me!”

“Two hours, six dozen Curses, and at least twelve of threatening to staple my nutsta the side of my head,” the older bassist chuckled.

“Day-um, man.” GN’R’s new drummer, Matt Sorum, shook his head in amusement. “But why the side of the head?”

“’Cuz he said something about wanting ’em to still be attached between his legs by the Time this was all said and done when I first woke ’em up with my groan,” Belle answered with a smirk. “And I think it was actually him who specified the side of his head where he _didn’t_ want ’em attached, so once I was drugged…”

“Okay, yeah–I can see it now,” he laughed. “That’d be the first part of that conversation ya remembered, once the delirium and drugs kicked in.”

“Well, either way, you’re still lookin’ damn good,” Axl chuckled. “God knows I’d definitely fuck ya, ’cuz ya still look as good as before ya ever shared the news.”

“Good Luck with that, Rose,” Belle dead-panned with an eye-roll. “You’ll have to fight for your right to mate, and I can guarantee ya those you’ll be fighting won’t give it to ya easy.”

Bobby and Duff both cracked their knuckles menacingly, their expressions screaming that the only one they were sharing her with were each other.

“We only share with each other ’cuz she’d kick our asses, if we showed them like that,” the older bassist growled.

“But sharing with someone else, especially one of our band mates-turned-brothers?” his younger counterpart asked. “As she likesta say, a Snowball’d stand a better chance in Hell.”

“Damn straight, ’cuz them’s fightin’ words–literally,” Bobby agreed.

“All right, all right.” Izzy gently pulled the ginger away before they could be provoked into attacking him. “Why don’t we get the new mama and her lil man inside and settled? She’s starting to look like she could use planting her ass on the couch or something.”

Turning their attention back to their shared girl, they both realized that the shorter, brunette guitarist was absolutely right. Belle was wearing a slightly pinched expression, and considering she’d already complained about her pelvis and thighs killing her numerous Times, they already knew what was up. Leaving her with no room for argument, her boyfriend grabbed her under the arms from behind, her husband gently hefting up her legs so that her thighs were well-supported.

Yelping more so with surprise than pain, she grabbed hold of Duff’s forearms as they carried her up to the front door, where they only set her down long enough to unlock it. Once it was unlocked and opened, they hefted her up again and carried her inside, quickly covering the Space between it and the couch in the family room. That was where they finally set her down for good, but made sure she was settled before turning to go get their bags and Zeppelin outta the truck. However, upon turning to head back outside, they saw that Izzy’d grabbed said baby’s carrier, the rest of the guys having managed to pop the hatch and grab their bags outta the trunk for them.

Both guys were quick to thank them, each taking their bags so they could head to their respective master suite to unpack them. It was the older bassist who took Belle’s bag, as well as the diaper bag that’d been packed for their newborn son, with him. Said young woman was now focused on getting her baby outta his carrier, considering he was awake, but just looking around as he took in his surroundings.

None of the other guys could deny he was a cutie, just about every single one of them swearing on a beloved relative’s grave that he looked like a lil clone of Bobby. While it’d be almost impossible to tell whose eye and hair Color he’d gotten, his features looked more like those of his daddy. Granted, none of them besides his wife and the younger bassist’d seen pictures of him as a lil tyke, but they still stood by their statements. The new mama couldn’t help a giggle as she cradled her son, a grin stretching her face as she told them that they were all right. Zeppelin looked almost identical to his daddy’s baby pictures, enough that it almost seemed like he hadn’t even needed her to reproduce.

“Who looks like what out here?” Bobby asked, rejoining the group once he’d finished his Self-imposed task.

“Dude, if this kid doesn’t look identical to ya, I’ll eat my own foot!” Rikki laughed.

“He looks so much like ya, we’re actually starting to wonder if ya actually reproduced, or if ya were just cloned,” Izzy chuckled.

“Yeah, he _does_ look a lot like me,” he agreed with a chuckle of his own. “But I’m not busting out my baby pictures, damn it. Bad enough that Belle and Duff found them–I don’t need the rest of ya seeing them, too.”

“Why, scared we’ll give ya no End of teasing?” This question was posed by the shortest blonde of the group.

“Oh, I _know_ ya will!” the older bassist shot back, his grin belying any annoyance. “Whether I was a cute kid or not, that doesn’t mean I wanna hear it all the Time!”

“Maybe so, but I don’t blame ’em for thinking he’s a cutie,” Belle giggled. “I might be biased in being his mother, but I definitely think Zep’s an adorable baby.”

“Wait, that’s his name?” the curly-haired drummer asked, eyes wide with surprise.

“Zeppelin Bentley,” she answered. “I wasn’t about to let Bobby name him Ken, ’cuz he’s not a freakin’ toy. Besides, Stone ain’t exactly a good choice, even though said daddy likes The Rolling Stones.”

“Even I’ve to admit she’s a knack with picking names,” Bobby agreed.

“So, what wouldja pick for a girl?” Slash asked, his Curiosity momentarily turning to surprise when she made to hand the baby to him since he was the closest _uncle_ at the moment.

“Well, it depends on who their daddy is,” the young woman answered. “’Cuz I want their given and middle namesta have a good ring with their surname.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Axl mused, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Personally, I think Zeppelin Bentley or Zephyrine Bailey sound better with Kuykendall tacked onto the End, rather than McKagan,” Belle told them. “Haven’t come up with a boy’s name I’d give a son I had with Duff yet, but the one for a daughter– _definitely_ sounds better with McKagan, if ya ask me.”

All the guys–including the aforementioned boyfriend–were curious as to how she coulda picked a name that definitely wouldn’t have sounded right with the older bassist’s surname. Letting her grin widen, she admitted that the girl’s name she was talking about had just randomly popped into her head, and it made her think of Duff and his band more. She seemed a bit shy about admitting what it was, but they finally got her to crack enough to admit that she’d wind up naming any baby girl she and the younger bassist had together after a Cinderella song.

They all looked a bit confused at first, wondering just how she’d be able to name their child after a song since Poison was more familiar with the band she’d named than GN’R was. Belle surprised them when she took a deep breath and started singing, the lyrics that floated outta her mouth actually stirring up more or less the same images of longing Beauty for them that they did for her.

“Ya can’t name your kid _Gypsy Road!”_ CC laughed, slapping his knee as he cracked up.

“Oh, I know I can’t name a daughter that,” the young woman admitted with a grin. “But I _can_ name a daughter _Gypsi_ –spelled with an _I_ here– _Rose.”_

Every single mouth in the room pursed into a thoughtful line as that shut them all up.

“Ya know, I actually kinda like it,” Duff finally admitted after a few moments. “Yeah, Gypsi Rose McKagan really _does_ have a pretty good ring to it.”

“Better than Gypsi Rose Kuykendall, for sure,” the older bassist agreed with a chuckle.

“And that’s what I mean by saying I wanted their given and middle namesta fit cohesively with their surnames,” she told them. “Yeah, Poison’s their song _Every Rose has Its Thorn,_ so such a name could tie back to Bobby pretty nicely–but it just doesn’t fit with his surname.”

“I think that’d only happen if I legally Changed my name so it was shortened to my stage name,” Bobby chuckled. “And I’ve too much shit like the utilities and my credit cardsta Change my name on after I did something like that.”

“Not that I’d ask such a thing of ya,” Belle told him. “Considering I haven’t legally Changed my name yet, if I wanna Change it to _Dall-McKagan_ later on, then that’s my choice.”

“Ya could Change it to just about anything ya want, really,” the brunette guitarist mused.

“Exactly, but I’ll save that for if and when I ever handfast with Duff,” the young woman told them. “It’ll be easier and cheaper to Change my name once, rather than have to go through the process twice just to tack McKagan onto the End later.”

All of them’d known she was a very intelligent young woman, now that they’d gotten to know her better over the past couple Years, and they quickly realized she’d a point. Not only that, but there was no sense in keeping her maiden name, if she ever handfasted with the younger bassist in addition to his older counterpart. In being with two guys simultaneously, she might as well bear both their surnames, if she were to handfast with both instead of just one.

The guys stayed for another couple hours before they decided to head back to the hotel they were staying at till they flew back to So Cal. Considering she’d just given Birth, there was no doubt that Belle was still exhausted, even three Days later, and both her guys seemed to be pretty tired, too. Settling in with a new baby wasn’t gonna be easy on any of them, but Zep’s actual parents were no doubt gonna have the harder Time.

Duff made sure the new parents were settled in for the Night a few hours later, promising them that he’d keep an ear out for the baby, if he was up late. They were both turning in closer to eight o’ clock than not, which was pretty early for all of them on pretty much any other Night. As exhausted as they were, they might not hear their son till he was shrieking loud enough to wake the Dead ten miles away, and none of them wanted him to be accidentally neglected. With the young family settled in for the Night, the younger bassist headed upstairsta his own room, careful to leave his door cracked to keep an ear out.


	12. Eleven

_Two Years Later…_

_December, 1992_

_Kingsport, Tennessee_

By the Time Zep’s second birthday rolled around, quite a bit of upheaval’d happened in all their Lives, but none more so than the two bassists’. It wasn’t even a full Year after Bobby’d become a daddy that his band had practically imploded and fallen apart at the seams with the firing of their lead guitarist. They’d all gotten pretty sick of his steadily-increasing cocaine addiction, but he’d gotten the most fed-up with it the quickest. Considering he’d long since been sober by that point, he didn’t like being around all the drinking and drugging, but he’d put too much hard work into this band–which he’d believed in too fully–to just give up on it.

Duff was going through more or less the same thing on top of Axl pretty much becoming a tyrannical dictator on top of it. Starting with having fired Steven for his outta-Control heroin addiction–which was in addition to his own cocaine addiction–in July of 1990, GN’R all but started to slowly unravel. It was Beginning to look more and more like Izzy was gonna be the next band member replaced, although not ’cuz he was actually fired. He seemed to be getting just as fed up with the others’ intoxicated behavior as the bassists were, and like he was more apt to quit than allow himself to be fired. Exactly _when_ such a thing’d End up happening, none of them could say–but the one thing that was certain was that it was gonna happen sooner rather than later.

While trying to smooth things over enough to keep the brunette guitarist or anyone else from leaving the slightly younger band, Poison was busy replacing their own guitarist. CC mighta been outed due to the problems for which he seemed totally disinterested in seeking help, but that didn’t mean their run’d to End. That being said, they’d started an almost immediate campaign to find a replacement, but it’d taken them a while.

It wasn’t till early-November that Poison’s efforts paid off, and they wound up being put in touch with a much-younger man by the name of Richie Kotzen. Not only could he make a guitar sing like an angel and scream like a demon all at once, but he could play various other instruments, too. He wasn’t much of a drummer, but he could play mandolin, as well as practically play a bass like a lead guitar, which certainly wasn’t an easy feat. Bobby didn’t allow that to make him feel threatened, though, ’cuz what he wasn’t telling the rest of his band was that it might be a better thing than they thought. If the now-shorter blonde of his band didn’t start cleaning up his act soon, their newest member’d be making a permanent instrument switch, when it came to this band.

_“Daddy!”_

Lil feet pattering across the hardwood immediately followed the gleeful shriek, making Belle peek outta the kitchen to see her son come flying from the family room. She’d heard the front door open, even with the lil bit of noise she was making as she made dinner, but she’d thought it was Duff. After all, she didn’t know exactly when the older bassist’d get home from his most recent trip out to Los Angeles for jam sessions.

_“Ooh,_ there’s mah lil man!” The voice that answer the lil boy was definitely too deep to belong to the younger bassist, not to mention possessed the wrong accent.

“Daddy home–Daddy home!” Zep cheered happily as said daddy picked him up.

“Yesh, Daddy’s home again, buddy,” the older bassist chuckled, sounding tired. “And smells like Mama’s makin’ a mess again.”

Their son giggled almost deviously as he started heading for the kitchen with him snuggled against his chest.

_“Benvenuti a casa, l’amore,”_ the young woman said, greeting him with a smile as he walked in.

_“Tale un caloroso benvenuto, troppo,”_ Bobby responded without missing a beat, even as he leaned down to give her a kiss. “Duff out running errands?”

“Taking a Day to himself, actually,” she told him. “His own band’s been driving him nuts, so he went to hide in the Tree line to keep the idiots from being able to call him.”

“And they haven’t driven _you_ nuts all Day?” The older bassist looked a bit surprised.

“I just got smart and unplugged the phones,” Belle laughed. “They wanna get in touch with us for today, and they’ll have to fly out here–or just hope one of us plugs a phone back in for something.”

“You’re such a devious wench,” he chuckled. “But I think that’s part of why we fell in Love with ya.”

“Oh, there’s been plenty more reasons,” the young woman retorted, her grin widening. “But not all of ’em are kid-friendly, as we both know.”

Bobby couldn’t even Begin to deny his shared wife’s words, which just made him laugh harder as he made sure to maintain his grip on their son. Lil Zep couldn’t help giggling almost hysterically, although he was too young to’ve gotten exactly what his mama meant by that. Even still, that didn’t stop his giggles, especially once his daddy shot him a devious grin and started gently tickling his ribs, which made him flail.

It wasn’t long before Belle’d plated dinner, which prompted him to go make sure said son didn’t require a fresh Pull-Up and get them cleaned up. Since they didn’t have any pets that she needed to make sure stayed outta the food, she headed for one of the back doors that opened up to the back porch. Not knowing exactly where he was and not wanting to strain her throat, she simply rang the Bell that she’d hung up from the underside of the roof. Her entire family knew that it was a Universal call to come back to the house, and considering the Time of Day, she knew her younger husband would know what she was trying to tell him from afar.

As they were settling at the dining room table, they heard one of those back doors open and close a few minutes after she’d come back inside. Heavy bootsteps preceded Duff down the front hall as he headed for the kitchen to wash up so he could join his family. The smile that he shot his shared wife–whom he’d also handfasted with earlier that Summer–was full of Love, even as he waved to her first husband and their young son. He didn’t allow his slight longing to turn into family-shredding Jealousy, not even in private, and he refused to allow that to happen. The younger bassist refused to be the one responsible for tearing their family asunder when he and the older one both were dealing with that kinda shit outta their bands.

The adults held off on talking about the bands and where they were going till after dinner, all of them instead choosing to enjoy the lone child’s antics. Considering that his second birthday was still about a week away, he was still quite the messy eater, especially since he used mostly his hands. It was more entertaining to watch him when his daddy simply gave up trying to get him to use his kiddie utensils than to spoil everyone’s good moods with talk about such unpleasant things.

“So, how was the trip out to So Cal?” Duff was now settled so that his shared wife’s feet were in his lap as he rubbed them, her torso against the older bassist’s.

“Eh, not half-bad, believe it or not,” said older bassist answered, wrapping his arms around their wife.

“Wow, I’m surprised to hear that, love,” she told him, looking just as surprised as their group’s lone blonde. “I mean, this is Poison we’re talking about here–the in-fighting’s as notorious as that of GN’R at this point.”

“Well, things haven’t been going nearly as bad since we found Richie last Year,” Bobby said. “I mean, sure–Bret, Rikki, and I all right with each other in various combos, and even Richie’ll get in on some of the arguing when it comesta song ideas. But that pretty much happens with _every_ band, no matter _who_ it consists of.”

“He’s definitely got a point there,” the younger bassist agreed Sagely as he nodded. “I haven’t been in a band yet that didn’t have some kinda fighting going on between one pair of members or another.”

“I guess it’s just that I’m so used to these two bands in particular fighting amongst ’emselves that it’s more surprising for ’em to actually get along,” Belle giggled. “Especially considering that the way things went _before_ all the Time Travel business, there was a lot more in-fighting than this.”

“No doubt us getting sober before we Returned from 2018 has something to do with the lack of in-fighting compared to that,” her slightly-older husband chuckled.

“Oh, I’ve no doubt about it,” the young woman agreed. “The two of ya can hold your tongues–not to mention your fists–better without all the alcohol in your veins.”

“Here’s hoping we can both hold our tempers for a while longer,” Duff grumbled, switching which foot of hers he was rubbing. “’Cuz I’m just about ready to kill Axl by way of blunt-force trauma, my bass as my axe.”

Neither of the others could help laughing at that barely-disguised threat against the ginger, but they didn’t blame him for making it, either. Belle hadn’t gotten along with said vocalist ever since she’d met him, but she’d tried to keep an open mind when they’d first Traveled back from 2018. She’d admitted that most of what she’d heard about him in the Future painted him out to be an abusive, woman-beating sum-bitch, but she’d wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even though she still didn’t know for sure whether those stories were true or not, she still didn’t get along with him and had nearly inflicted physical Violence of her own.

Since it was the younger bassist’s turn to fly back out to So Cal to work on his band’s album-in-progress in a couple Days, they decided to just enjoy their Time together. Bobby being exhausted from back just Returned for a couple weeks’ break from the Insanity only solidified their desire to head to bed for some serious cuddle therapy together.

As she settled into the bed of her older husband’s bedroom between said husbands, the young woman couldn’t help a smile. Just as she’d been the first Morn she’d awoken between them, she was somewhat curled up on her side with her head on Duff’s chest. His left arm was wrapped around her shoulders and upper back as he gently played with her hair, seemingly undaunted by Bobby using his bicep as a pillow as he spooned their shared wife from the other side of the bed.

It took a while for all three of them to fall asleep, but they were content to enjoy the pleasant Silence and each others’ presences. Both bassists enjoyed their Nights alone with their wife, but they couldn’t deny enjoying Nights like this one when they’d be piled up like a litter of content, sleeping puppies. However, none of them were stupid enough to say that the release of another album by either band wouldn’t cause quite a bit of Chaos. Sure, that Chaos and Insanity’d eventually settle down, but they figured it was best to enjoy the Calm before the Storm while they had it. Eventually, the trio dozed off to the Sounds of a sleeping Zep drifting through the baby monitor they still used, a peaceful smile on all their faces as they did.


	13. Twelve

By the Time Poison released their fourth studio album, _Native Tongue,_ just Days shy of two months later, Belle was feeling quite under the Weather. She’d been getting pretty tired, no matter how much and how well she did or didn’t sleep, but she’d brushed it off when it first started. Even though her husbands’d both thought it was a bit strange, she’d chocked it up to being a mother of a two-Year-old who kept her hopping. That didn’t include the housework, which both men helped her with as much as they could since neither of them could stand filthy surroundings, either.

Since Duff’d been slowly getting more and more fed-up with his band, he’d been staying at home in Tennessee more. The older bassist’d been too close to finishing up work on his band’s album, so he’d been out in the Greater Los Angeles area to work on that lately. He still got his alone Time with the young woman when he _was_ home, but he hadn’t been getting as much of it as the blonde had lately.

A trip to her OB/GYN when she actually started waking up sick since she was due for one, anywhore quickly clued her in to what was really going on. She hadn’t thought much of her period being roughly two months late, ’cuz it’d happened a few Times before, but now she couldn’t deny the Truth. Her missed period combined with the fatigue and nausea was indicative of being pregnant again, which definitely wasn’t a bad thing, as far as she was concerned.

However, in being with two different guys, that posed the same question she’d posed to her OB/GYN in Los Angeles not quite three Years ago. She didn’t know exactly who the father woulda been, although she’d a pretty good idea, and figuring out within Days of exactly how far along she was would give her the answer. Luckily for her, her new OB/GYN was just as good at making such calculations as her old one’d been, and they came to the conclusion that she was eight weeks pregnant, give or take a Day or two. It was almost a repeat of the last Time she’d gotten such news, which made her laugh as she explained that part to her doctor. Even said doctor couldn’t help but be amused, and she was just glad that she wasn’t turning her nose up at her Romantic practices.

Searching through her memory and doing some quick math, Belle realized that she musta conceived about a week before Zep’s second birthday. At the Time, the younger bassist’d been the one at home in Tennessee with her and the toddler, Bobby having been out in So Cal. It was more likely that the blonde was this baby’s father, although it was still entirely possible that his musical counterpart could be the father. They wouldn’t know for sure till after she’d given Birth again, ’cuz she refused to undergo a prenatal DNA test outta concern for the baby. She didn’t want such an invasive procedure to potentially cause her to miscarry, so it seemed better to just wait for the answers she and both husbands were bound to want.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Duff said as she walked in from that appointment. “I just managed to get Zep down for his nap.”

“Oh, thank the Gods,” she giggled, quietly setting her purse down. “This mama needs a nap of her own.”

“Well, hopefully not without telling me how that appointment went,” the younger bassist said, his expression morphing to one of concern.

“Other than saying that I’m not dying, I’m not telling anything else just yet,” Belle told him with a grin. “You’re waiting till Bobby gets here again before I say anything else.”

“Oh, c’mon!” he begged, unable to really pout due to the grin now stretching his face.

“Cue _Vault Mode!”_ the young woman laughed. “’Cuz whether I’m trying to kill ya with suspense or not, I _really do_ need a nap, hon.”

“Fine, fine,” Duff chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s getcha in bed before ya start getting evil.”

“Ya know me so well,” she told him with a grin of her own.

Since Bobby was due to get home sometime within the next couple hours, as long as his flight hadn’t gotten delayed, they decided to head for the downstairs master suite. He knew there was no way he was gonna get his shared wife to agree to anything sexual, so it didn’t exactly matter whose bed they wound up in at the moment. The older bassist didn’t care if they slept in his bed, as long as no sex happened between them in his bed since that was just gross.

Belle sighed contently as she settled in the Center of the King-size bed, her recent exhaustion really catching up with her. The younger bassist was careful not to jostle her too much as he crawled in behind her, both their jeans shed and folded on the dresser across from the foot of the bed. Even if he didn’t fall asleep, he was content to just spoon her, an arm wrapped loosely around her waist, as she caught the nap she wanted.

Unsure if his family was even home, or if they were down for a nap, Bobby made sure to make his entry into the house as quiet as he possibly could when he got home. It’d been a long week in So Cal that led up to the release of his band’s fourth studio album, the first with their new lead guitarist, Richie Kotzen. There was no way in Hell he could say that the album wasn’t a good one, even if it was far from what Poison’d been known for in the Past. All but gone were the wild party anthems that’d made them famous as much as infamous ever since the release of their debut in 1986, their replacements being far more mature and serious.

What surprised even the band was just how much of that maturity and seriousness was brought to the table by young Richie. Having just turned twenty-three all of five Days before the album’s release, pretty much everybody’d thought he was gonna be one of those wild children like the rest of the band had been at his age. But they couldn’t have been farther from the Truth in their assumption, and the older bassist’d be pleasantly surprised by that.

Now that he was back home in Tennessee, though, he just wanted to fall into bed and not move for the next week as he caught up on lost rest and readjusted to the Time Change. He was so used to running on Pacific Time now that it felt like it was nine in the Morn, not Noon, and he knew it’d take him a while to readjust. It always did after flying home from Los Angeles, and the same was true for Duff when he came back home, too.

Bobby couldn’t help the tired, but content smile that crossed his face when he stepped into his bedroom, his boots kicked off by the front door to aid his quiet entry. His shared wife lay curled up on her right side in the Center of his bed, his pillow dragged close enough for her to catch his scent. The younger bassist was curled up behind her, his nose buried in her hair and his arm wrapped loosely around her waist. As sick as she’d been for the last month or so, he was glad to see that she was getting some desperately-needed rest. Course, he was also glad to see that they hadn’t been fuckin’ in his bed, but that was a trivial matter to him right now in comparison.

_“Mmm,”_ Belle hummed as she felt the bed shift slightly.

_“Shhh, mia bella Musica Strega,”_ the older bassist whispered, gently brushing her hair back.

_“Hmm,_ Bobby?” she asked, blinking up at him sleepily.

“Yeah, it’s me, sugar,” Bobby told her, his voice barely a murmur.

All the young woman did was hum happily as she moved her head to use his chest as a pillow once he’d settled somewhere between his side and his back.

“Welcome home, man,” the younger bassist mumbled as he shifted behind their shared wife. His left hand wound up on the brunette’s hip, not ’cuz he meant to actually touch him, but ’cuz of how he’d wrapped his arm around said woman when he moved.

“Definitely glad to be here, for sure,” he yawned, ignoring the hand on his hip since he was too tired to start a fight over something stupid that’d happened plenty of Times before.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Duff said. “Wanna finish my nap before the brat wakes up.

“Mah lil man’s not _that_ big a brat,” the older bassist argued, chuckling sleepily as he started to doze off. “But yeah, nap _before_ he wakes sounds good.”

It didn’t take but a few minutes for the pair of bassiststa fall asleep–again, in the younger one’s case–Belle having never really woken up in the first place. She seemed pretty content between the two of them, just like she always was when they piled into the same bed like this. Course, the blonde supposed that as bad as she’d been feeling lately, he should just be glad that she was able to get any amount of undisturbed rest.

* * *

Another hour or so passed before Duff felt something moving down near his feet, which made him crack open his eyes and look down. Just as he’d suspected the second his sleepy brain’d registered that movement, he saw lil Zep starting to crawl up to the head of the bed. The lil boy seemed Intent on waking his daddy, no doubt ’cuz he was excited to see him like he always was when the older bassist got home. Knowing how exhausted he no doubt was, he made a soft noise to get the boy’s attention, making him pause next to his knees instead of continuing up the bed.

Zep pouted adorably as Daddy Duff gently told him to leave Mama and Daddy alone so they could sleep a lil longer. He couldn’t help that he was excited about Daddy being back home, considering how much he’d to leave on what all three grown-ups called _business trips_ and stayed gone for a while when he did. And Mama not feeling good meant that she hadn’t wanted to spend as much Time with him lately unless they were cuddling on the couch, whereas she’d normally play in the back yard with him.

The younger bassist chuckled softly as he pushed himself upright, blonde hair flying all over the place since he now needed to brush it. Managing to make a compromise, he told the lil boy they’d come wake them up in an hour, if the scent of food didn’t wake them up first. Neither Belle, nor Bobby’d be able to get any sleep that Night, if they let them sleep too long now, but he didn’t wanna put up with a pair of sour-pusses during dinner. That seemed to be an agreeable enough compromise for the lil boy, whose face lit up in a grin as he nodded and let him pick him up once he’d stood up. Said lil boy giggled softly as even those slight movements didn’t wake his parents, the couple simply snuggling closer to one another in their sleep.

“All right, lil man–lesh get started on dinner,” Duff yawned, stretching after setting him on the counter. “Whatcha tink Mama’s gon’ want tonight?”

“Chickie!” he cried, no longer mindful of his volume since they were on the other side of the house.

“Oh, dat Chicken soup I’ve been making her?” the younger bassist asked with a chuckle. “I’m starting to think she’s getting a lil tired of it, honestly.”

“But ish _soooo gooood,”_ Zep told him.

“I know ish good–Mama been making it since afore chu were born,” he agreed. “But chu can only nom someting so many Times after chu wantsta trade it out for sketti, or someting else.”

_“Hmmm,”_ the lil boy hummed thoughtfully. “Gosta lookie at Mama’s noms books!”

“Chu know, dat might not be a half-bad idea, lil man,” Duff chuckled.

Knowing his shared wife preferred a lotta Pagan-themed recipes since she _was_ a Pagan, he decided to grab the homemade cookbook she’d thrown together. Comprised of various recipes that she’d collected in 2018 before all their Time Travel, she’d split them up based on the Sabbat they fit with best. There were a lotta repeats–after all, some recipes fit both _Ostara_ and _Beltane,_ or _Mabon_ and _Samhain_ –but he was sure he could find something that wouldn’t upset her iffy stomach and everybody could agree on.

Since it was the perfect Time of Year for such a thing, the younger bassist ultimately settled on a recipe she’d entitled _Herbed Chicken Barley Stew_. He sure hoped this wouldn’t be too heavy on her stomach, considering how sick she’d been lately, but he supposed he’d find out soon enough. Besides, if the need arose, he wasn’t averse to making her something else, even opening the windowsta Air out the house for her.

As he and Zep were pulling the Chicken meat off the bones not quite an hour and a-half later, he paused as his keen hearing picked out the Sound of soft shuffling. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that Bobby was sleepily shuffling into the kitchen, his arm wrapped around their shared wife’s shoulders. Belle’d an arm wrapped around his waist, her eyes mostly closed as she allowed him to lead her much like a small child. That spoke volumes about how well she felt, which was undoubtedly still pretty bad, considering she once again looked paler than normal.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Duff said, keeping his volume down since they’d just woken up.

_“Mmmph,”_ she grumbled, turning her face toward her older husband’s chest. “Please tell me whatever that Chicken’s going in is pretty light.”

“Well, I’m hoping your _Herbed Chicken Barley Stew_ ain’t too heavy on your stomach, but I’ll make ya something else, if need be,” the younger bassist told her.

“Still sick, sugar?” Bobby asked. He used a gentle finger under her chin to make her look up at him.

_“Mmm hmm,”_ the young woman hummed, nodding slightly. “Gonna stay sick for a while longer, too.”

“Seriously?” he asked, sounding frustrated. “I swear, your doctor must be an idiot.”

“Speaking of, ya never filled me in on how your appointment went earlier,” her younger husband said.

“’Cuz I wanted both of ya to hear it at the same Time,” Belle giggled.

That caught both bassists’ attention, Zep just sitting quietly with his head cocked curiously.

“My doctor’s not an idiot, and short of being hospitalized ’cuz it gets too outta hand, there’s not much she can do to make me feel any better,” she told them, starting to grin. “Kinda hard to when it’s ’cuz I’m pregnant again.”

“Wait, what?” Duff asked, jaw dropping.

“I concur,” the older bassist said, looking just as flabbergasted.

“Yeah, _that’s_ why I’m feeling so rotten– _and_ why I wanted both of ya to hear the news at the same Time,” the young woman laughed.

“Well, I kinda can’t blame ya for that,” Bobby said. “But now I think we’ve an even bigger question.”

“This Time around, it’s more likely that Duff’s the man of Honor, so to speak,” Belle cut them both off. “Dr. Morgan swears I’m right at eight weeks, give or take a Day or two.”

“And Bobby was in Los Angeles more than he wasn’t up to _six_ weeks ago,” the younger bassist mused, the pieces starting to fit together for him.

Nodding, their shared wife said that it was entirely possible that the _older_ bassist was about to become a daddy for the second Time, but it was more likely that he wasn’t. They’d find out for sure once she gave Birth again, just like they did when Zep was born, considering she vetoed any kinda testing that’d tell them. Both men knew why she vetoed such a thing to vehemently, and both also knew that trying to Change their wife’s mind once she’d made it up on something like that’d do nothing but cause a ton of fighting and stress.

As they sat down to at least attempt enjoying dinner once it was done about half an hour later, none of the adults could bite back their excitement. Even the lil boy settled in his daddy’s lap was excited by the prospect of a new sibling to play with once they got big enough. But while this news was good for them, there was a lot more bad on the horizon, which’d cause far more upheaval in their Lives.


	14. Thirteen

By the Time Belle gave Birth to what turned out to be a healthy baby girl–who turned out to be Duff’s–in September of 1993, their Lives’d all but fallen apart on a professional level. Touring on and off for the double-issue album _Use Your Illusion_ for twenty-eight months woulda taken a toll on just about anyone. Duff’d found it particularly hard to cope, if only ’cuz aside from Izzy’s replacement–Gilby Clarke–he was the only sober member of GN’R. Granted, Gilby certainly indulged in alcohol from Time to Time, but it didn’t seem to be on nearly as constant a basis as the other members–especially those who went further than just alcohol.

When the tour Ended that July, finally allowing him to go back home for good, the younger bassist made something abundantly clear. The use of the words _for good_ in that particular sentence weren’t an accident–this’d be the last tour he went on with the band he’d helped found. And the upcoming spoof album, _The Spaghetti Incident?,_ was gonna be the last GN’R album his playing was ever featured on.

Naturally, the rest of the band balked at that particular Thought, but he’d finally reached the End of his rope with them and their antics. The fact that–at the Time the tour came to its End–his being soon to be a father made him even more resistant to being around such bullshit. His Time in this band had run its course over nearly ten Years, and while it’d been a helluva ride for all of them, it was Time he moved on. Either he was gonna kill a band mate–up to and including poor Gilby, who deserved it the least–or he was gonna have a relapse into his old, dirty ways. There was no way in Hell the younger bassist was letting such a thing happen with a baby of his own on the way, so this was the best option for all of them.

At the same Time, his older musical counterpart was making pretty much the same decision, but he was sitting on his hand, as it were. He was playing his cards so that–like the younger, rowdier band–his own wouldn’t know just what the hell was coming their way till it was too late. Bobby fully Intended to make it to the End of their _Native Tongue_ tour, but after that, he was done with the bullshit Poison put him through. Richie could take over his position as bassist, if he wanted, but _Bobby Dall_ wouldn’t be listed in the credits anymore.

“She’s absolutely gorgeous,” Duff was murmuring. At the moment, he sat on the couch in his family’s Eastern Tenn home, his newborn daughter cradled in his arms.

“She looks just like her daddy, if ya ask me,” his shared wife giggled softly from where she snuggled against his side, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I think she got your eyes, though–and I don’t mean the Color, either,” he chuckled. “They seem like they tilt at the outer corners a bit.”

“Yeah, they kinda do,” Belle agreed. “But everything else about her right now–that’s all Daddy.”

“Now that, I can agree with,” the younger bassist told her with a grin. “I still feel a lil bad, though, since Zep’s a lil clone of Bobby, and now Gypsi’s almost a clone of me.”

“Hey, if y’all play your cards right–and these two don’t drive me _too_ insane–y’all might get another one apiece that look more like me,” she retorted with a grin of her own. “But since the Future’s never set in Stone, I wouldn’t hold my breath for it, if I were y’all.”

“Sounds like a compromiseta me,” Duff agreed, moving enough to extend his right hand to her. “Besides, since I never really put much Thought into having kids, I’m happy enough with just the one.”

“I think Bobby’s of the same mindset,” the young woman said, accepting his handshake on the matter. “He knew he might not _ever_ get a baby outta me–quite literally–so he decided not to tempt Fate once Zep was born.”

He couldn’t help a slight nod as he agreed that finding out Belle was pregnant with Gypsi was quite the surprise, in and of itself. Doing the math and coming to the conclusion that she most likely belonged to the younger bassist this Time was an even bigger surprise for him. The fact that–despite coming from a huge family of his own–he’d never really been settled on having kids made him decide to simply be grateful for what he had rather than pine for what he didn’t.

Said newborn baby girl soon decided that she was hungry, and she was also in need of a diaper change, now that naptime was officially over. As he gently handed her over so her mama could take care of those needs, the younger bassist couldn’t help the Thoughts that started filling his head. It was high-Time they started planning for the Future as it was to play out, now that all this Time Travel’d occurred and set them up like this.

Duff didn’t know about the others, but he was kinda wanting to take a stab at going to college before he wound up looking like an old geezer in comparison to his classmates. After looking through old band-related documents, he’d come to the conclusion that he hadn’t been nearly knowledgeable enough to avoid getting royally screwed by his record label. No matter what he did henceforth, he was hell-bound and determined _not_ to put himself in that kinda position again. The only way he could think of to make sure that didn’t happen–go to college, particularly with a major in business, and get some kinda education that went beyond high school. Maybe he and his family could actually use that to their advantage later on, but there was only one way to find out.

Belle was all for him heading to college, if that was what he wanted to do, even if she didn’t consider such a choice the best one for herself. She knew damn good and well that her older husband would be just as supportive, no doubt filling the role as _Daddy_ to Gypsi when he was in class or working on homework. After all, he’d filled that role for Zep when Bobby was unavailable for whatever reason, and now he’d the chance to repay the favor done for him. That reassured him enough to grin at her again, any doubts he’d had about trying such a thing flying right out the window.

The next couple months were every bit as eventful, what with Duff signing up to start classes at the nearest community college on top of having a newborn and a toddler. He did everything he could to make sure he didn’t neglect his family while keeping his GPA up, but it certainly wasn’t an easy feat to manage. Course, when one thought about it like that, none of his Life thus far’d been easy, so this was just another test to see if he’d what it took to get shit done, as it were.

Come November, they were fully expecting Poison to continue their tour for another couple months before Ending it in January. For the front door to suddenly open when they knew damn good and well it’d been locked was quite the surprise, which provoked Belle into turning her shotgun on it. When she registered that it was her older husband, who was greeted with a happy squeal from his son, she couldn’t help her surprise.

“Bobby–what on Earth’re ya home for?” she asked, making sure the safety was engaged before hiding her weapon again.

“Lemme at least get my boots off and my rump planted on the couch, sugar,” he begged, Zep now snuggled against his chest. “I feel like my feet might grow feet of their own, hop off my legs, and run away screaming.”

Nodding, the young woman took their son so he could take his bagsta his room and kick off his boots, knowing he’d to be exhausted.

“All right, to try and make this as short as I possibly can,” Bobby said, having flopped on the couch with a groan. “The guys’re idiots, and I’m sick of the crap.”

“Well, that doesn’t tell us a whole lot since that’s not really anything new,” the younger bassist told him, having given up on doing his homework for the moment.

“No, I mean that as in this was our last tour as the World currently knows Poison,” he started to clarify. “Bret pushed my last button when he tried to fire Richie, even after presented with evidence that he was wrong.”

“Whaddaya mean, love?” their shared wife asked, settled to nurse Gypsi as she listened.

“He swore up and down he caught Richie with Rikki’s girl–as fucked-up as he was, he prolly woulda thought the guy was screwing around with _you,_ if you’d been with us,” Bobby explained. “We reviewed security footage of every venue we’ve been to for months, and it turned out that Richie was trying to get Deanna off him every Time Bret supposedly caught them in a clandestine affair.”

“Lemme guess–even when he was shown that security footage, he didn’t wanna believe the Truth that was right in front of his eyes, did he?” the young woman asked with a snort. “Sounds like Bret, all right.”

“He went so far as to throw Richie’s stuff over the fence we were parked next to and tell him he was fired from the band right then and there,” the older bassist grumbled. “Even Rikki tried to stop him, even though he certainly wasn’t happy to find out what’d been going on behind his back, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“As much drinking and drugging as he still does, despite his diabetes, I can’t say I’m surprised and be telling the Truth,” Duff told him with a sigh. “Now, my question is–what’re ya gonna do?”

He made absolutely no bones about having quit the band that he’d worked so hard to get off the ground from the Time they were known as Paris out in the Harrisburg, Penn area. After managing to stick around for five more Years and another two albums in addition to the one they’d been working on at the Time of the bassists’ Time Travel, he was done. Bobby couldn’t handle anymore of the constant squabbling and in-fighting, which stemmed from the continued drinking and drugging on his band mates’ parts. Even having CC’s replacement join him in being sober more often than not wasn’t enough to get through this tour without wanting to rip his hair out.

Since he’d already been pretty much sold on quitting after this album and its accompanying tour, the decision hadn’t exactly been hard for him to make. Like the younger bassist’d decided earlier that Summer, his Time within his band had run its course, and it was Time to move on with his Life while he still could. He’d still get royalty checks for any Future sales of albums he’d a part in Creating, so he wasn’t too worried about their financial situation at the moment.

That didn’t mean that the older bassist wasn’t thinking ahead like Duff was, even if it was currently in different ways. At first, he’d thought about wanting to get into the bar business, but he’d been unsure due to being a recovering alcoholic. From there, he’d thought that doing such a thing could easily be a source of Endless stress, but also a way to make their family a fortune while proving that he’d what it took to stay sober in even a recovering alcoholic’s worst nightmare. It could also be a way for the younger bassist to prove he’d the kinda Will it took to be around such things without giving in, too.

Even Belle was quick to agree with those points, saying that it’d allow said blonde to actually put his business degree to good use–once he earned it, that is. He could be the brains when it came to keeping up with the books, which was kinda why he’d wanted to go to college for business in the first place. All of them agreed that they’d talk about such things later on down the road, ’cuz it’d take more than a business degree to do it.


	15. Fourteen

_January, 2004_

_Kingsport, Tennessee_

A lil over ten Years, three Bachelor’s degrees, and two more babies later, the Dall-McKagan family’d carved out a Path no one ever thought they would. Duff’d managed to get his business degree that he’d wanted when he first started college classes around the Time his daughter Gypsi was born. It hadn’t taken him long to decide that a simple Associate’s degree wasn’t gonna cut it, and that he needed to go back for at least a lil more formal education. He still wasn’t too sold on going back for even more schooling and to get his Master’s degree, but it didn’t seem like he really needed it.

Once the younger bassist’d achieved his desired level of degree and could find a far better-paying job in the meantime, both men’d talked their wife into taking a stab at college. Despite her insistence that formal education wasn’t for her, Belle wound up the proud owner of both an Associate and Bachelor of Arts degree. She’d picked advertising and graphic design as her major to go along with her younger husband’s chosen major.

By the Time the two of them’d finished their four Years’ hard labor, as it were, Bobby’d finally decided on the degree he thought’d fit himself best. He’d decided to major in Hospitality with a minor in the Culinary Arts, mostly ’cuz he fully Intended to be the _Top Dog_ of whatever bar they opened up. As much as he loved cooking, though, he figured it couldn’t hurt to _really_ know what the fuck he was doing, if ever came a Time that he’d to be kitchen manager and head chef on top of his typical duties. When it came right down to it, he was willing to fulfill just about any role necessary–even plunging the toilets–just like his wife and musical counterpart were, but specified education never hurt.

When they finally managed to complete and earn their degrees, they were all thankful to finally have that chapter of their Lives finished. By this Time, Duff was getting kinda sick of being the only bread-winner, despite the royalties he and the older bassist were still getting every Time one of the albums they’d been featured on was bought. Not only that, but Zep, Gypsi, and their baby sister Zephyrine–who was born in 1997–were all in at least elementary school.

“Gods, this search for a location’s starting to drive me insane,” he groaned, letting his head drop down onto the dining room table.

“Don’t be breaking your head– _or_ my table,” Belle laughed, readjusting the son she’d given him a lil over two Years ago as he napped against her chest.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I think breaking my head’s the least of our worries,” the younger bassist chuckled.

“Seriously,” Bobby agreed with a chuckle of his own. “I think as many Times as we’ve whacked our heads and survived, they’d have broken a long Time ago, if they were gonna.”

“Then don’t break my damn table,” she told him. “’Cuz I don’t feel like having to spend money that doesn’t need to be spent just to replace it.”

“I guess that’s true enough,” Duff agreed, not even bothering to rub his reddened forehead once he sat up again. “Besides, whether the table gets broken or not, we need my head to stay intact just for the business sense.”

“Got that right,” the older bassist told him. “’Cuz I dunno about Belle and her degree, but I didn’t get mine just for ya to kill yourself with a helluva knock to the noggin, damn it.”

None of them could help another round of laughter since they all knew they’d chosen their degreesta compliment one another when opening and running a bar. But at this rate, that bar wasn’t gonna get opened anytime soon, considering the _type_ of bar they were wanting to open. They’d decided back when the younger bassist’d first started his college classes that they wanted to open a rock ‘n’ roll bar, but they wanted to do it in a way that _didn’t_ attract biker gangs. It was supposed to be closer to family-friendly than not, kinda like the Hard Rock Café was, but still obviously be a bar and not just a typical restaurant.

The problem with that was that they’d to pick a location where that type of bar made sense, and they weren’t having much Luck in Eastern Tenn. With Nashville being not just the State’s Capitol, but the Capitol of country Music, it didn’t seem that there was much of a market for a rock ‘n’ roll bar. It didn’t seem they were gonna be able to find a property to buy and use to open up their bar of choice in this area, or any surrounding one.

Even though it was the last thing any of them wanted to do, Bobby finally ran his fingers through his almost-nonexistent hair and said that maybe they oughta look into moving. The house was pretty cramped, what with each of the men taking up a master suite–which their shared wife still floated between–and the kids all sharing rooms. Zep shared his room with his baby brother, Levi–who was the younger bassist’s son as much as Gypsi was his daughter–and said older girl shared her room with her baby sister. Both of the older kids’d already expressed a desire to have their own, private Spaces, but this house simply wasn’t big enough to allow for such a thing.

Since all their parents were actually kinda tired of living in the Mountainous countryside after upwards of ten Years, Duff and Belle were pretty quick to agree with him. Maybe moving back out West–although _not_ to California–was their best bet, ’cuz they’d prolly be able to open their bar a lot easier out there. First and foremost, they needed to check out the market for such a thing nationwide before they decided on any given area to move to, lest that move be entirely in vain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a ridiculously short chapter compared to my norm, I know, but don't worry–there's _plenty_ of action around the corner. I couldn't really get my Thoughts in order to make this chapter any longer, so I decided to keep it short, sweet, and to the point so I could move on to what this builds up to. However, said next chapter won't be posted till I've gotten a couple more chapters ahead, seeing as how I'm nearly caught up on actually posting.  
> ~Firefly


	16. Fifteen

_June, 2006_

_Chandler, Arizona_

After a surprisingly short search, the Dall-McKagan family’d wound up moving to a spacious home on the South side of Chandler. They were all of fifteen miles from the State’s Capitol, only about two miles Northwest of I-ten and the Gila River Indian Reservation. It was a lil more built-up than what they’d originally wanted, but considering they’d been looking for a six-bed house, they kinda had to go wherever they could find a place with enough bedrooms.

In being the older husband, it was decided that the main master suite on the ground floor was gonna be Bobby’s domain. Duff drew the short End of _that_ particular straw just like the last Time around, but instead of the sub-master he took being on the second story, it was in the basement this Time. Two of the other bedrooms were also in the basement, but set up with a _Jack-and-Jill_ -style bathroom and perfect for the boys. The last of the bedrooms were also on the ground floor, and also outfitted with a _Jack-and-Jill_ -style bathroom that was perfect for the girls. And none of this was including the massive living and dining areas, the kitchen, or the office with a half-bath nearby.

Once they’d made their second cross-country move–first, in the case of the kids since they’d all been born in Tennessee–they’d put their focus into finding the perfect property for their bar. Said property’d finally been found ten-to-fifteen miles North-Northwest of them, almost perfectly Centered between Scottsdale, Tempe, and Mesa along Highway One-oh-One near Casino Arizona.

Unlike back in Kingsport, there was a total mish-mash of the types of bars in this area, ranging from saloons and tiki bars back to lounges and taverns. Opening up a rock ‘n’ roll bar in this area didn’t seem like the stupidest idea anyone’d ever had, but they’d still decided to do their homework, as it were. Doing a neighborhood poll of sorts yielded the very answer they were hoping for–there were plenty of folks who wanted to see something kinda like the Hard Rock Café come to town. That left plenty of opportunity for quite the bit of Success, and they hadn’t been let down in the not-quite two and a-half Years since they’d moved to Arizona.

“How’s that new design looking, sweetheart?”

Looking up from where she’d been sketching a possible new T-shirt design for their bar, Belle saw her older husband walking into their home office. “Not half-bad so far, but it’s definitely tedious since I’m trying to make it so the kids can wear it to school without getting in trouble, too.”

“Makes me glad I majored in Hospitality with a minor in Culinary,” he chuckled, settling beside her.

“Hey, even this’d make ya glad to have it as your major in comparison to poor Duff,” the now-middle-aged woman laughed. “He’s the hardest Time with any of this, what with keeping the books straight so none of us wind up in trouble.”

“So mote it be,” Bobby agreed, feigning toasting his musical counterpart. “Course, I never imagined my Life turning out quite like this when I was a kid.”

“I don’t think any of us did,” she told him, giving up on her design for the moment since her hand was cramping. “I mean, we certainly didn’t see any of the Time Travel business coming, but definitely not everything that’s happened since we Returned to 1988.”

“I’m still amazed that old cover story about Duff and I needing an extended vacation was ever believed, even back then,” the older bassist mused.

“Me, too, but hey–one less headache for any of us to have to take anything for,” Belle said with a grin.

Unable to argue that particular point, he couldn’t help leaning over to give his shared wife a kiss that he was almost certain was gonna turn into more. Nothing in his Life–right down to meeting the Love of it and having to share her with another man–had turned out quite like he’d Dreamt of as a child. If he were honest with all involved, he’d say things’d turned out better than he coulda Dreamt of, starting with meeting said Love of his Life since she’d helped him sober up before it was too late.

Even though it’d ultimately led to him giving up what he’d loved throughout the eighties and early-nineties, Bobby couldn’t say he was unhappy with the Direction his Life’d gone. Whether she was shared or not, he’d a wife who loved him with everything in every fiber of her very being, two damn near perfect kids, and another two wonderful kids he affectionately referred to as his _half-kids_. His family wanted for nothing, considering the money their bar raked in throughout the week, not just on the weekends, in addition to his and Duff’s continued royalty payments. They might live a lower-profile Life now, but in a lotta ways, it was better than the Life they’d been living when all this started–and they wouldn’t give it up for shit.

Pulling up outside the nearby middle school after picking up her younger two from the nearby elementary school, Belle blew her hair outta her face as she waited in the car-rider pickup line. None of their kids’d ever ridden a bus, not even when they still lived out in the Mountains of Tennessee, and she’d insisted they not start now. She was currently picking up her daughters, Gypsi and Zeph, before heading to the high school since her older son wasn’t quite old enough to get his license.

It wasn’t long before she got to the very front of the line, glad she’d gotten a Chevy _Suburban_ after moving across the country again. Not only was she picking up all four of her own kids, but she was picking up a pair of their friends who were also sisters. Lil Raine’s mom’d sent a note with her the previous week for Gypsi to give to her, asking if they could come home with them today since both the lil girl’s parents’d something to do this afternoon. Even though her baby sister, Jorja, was a tender Year old, she and both husbands’d agreed that they could come over after school–daycare, in the toddler’s case–so they were supervised rather than left to their own devices when they couldn’t even operate a can opener.

“Hey there, girls,” Belle said once the back door’d opened.

_“Buon pomeriggio, Mamma,”_ they answered with a pair of giggles.

“Well, I don’t even think I need to ask if your Day was pretty good,” she laughed, waiting till they were buckled in to put her truck in gear.

“Eh, it was the same ol’, same ol’,” Gypsi told her.

“We’re just glad it’s Frigga’s Day more than anything,” Zeph giggled.

“Wish I could say the same,” the middle-aged woman snorted, her grin belying any true malice. “Butcha know one of the bar’s busiest Nights is on Frigga’s Day.”

“What’s _Frigga’s Day?”_ Raine asked from her place on one side of her baby sister, Levi on the other.

“It’s what we call Friday in my house,” Belle answered. “Basically, it’s just another name for the same Day of the week that comes from a different culture.”

_“Ohhhh.”_ She caught sight of the lil girl nodding when she glanced up into her rearview mirror. “Are we going to your house now?”

“Not quite yet,” she chuckled. “We’ve still gotta go pick up my older son, Zeppelin, since he goesta a different school than even his sisters.”

“Zeppelin–was he named after the band Led Zeppelin?” the lil girl asked. Clearly, she was full of questions like any other kid her age.

“Kinda, ’cuz Music’s a big theme in our house,” Belle answered. “His and Zeph’s daddy couldn’t really come up with anything better, so I made him lemme pick their names, myself.”

None of the kids could help peals of laughter at that statement, which was as true as that the Sky was perceived to be blue by human eyes, as she drove to the local high school. She’d refused to let Bobby name the kids with him Ken and Barbie on the grounds that they weren’t Hasbro toys, and most of his other choices’d sucked just as bad. However, she wasn’t about to bad-mouth her older husband like that–whether it was in front of any of the kids or not–so she merely grinned at their laughter.

As she came to a stop in front of the high school, the middle-aged woman almost immediately spotted Zep waiting on her with a group of his friends. Since he’d gotten his learner’s permit a few months ago, she moved to unbuckle her seat belt once she’d parked and taken the truck outta gear. Opening her door and walking around to the passenger’s seat to ride shotgun garnered her a confused noise from Raine, which made her laugh.

“Good Gods, Mom–you’re such a short-stack,” the teenage boy chuckled, almost immediately sliding the driver’s seat back once he’d climbed in.

“I’m not a short-stack–I’m fun-sized,” Belle retorted with a chuckle of her own. “As your dads when we get back home and see what they say.”

“I think I’d rather not,” he shot back, still grinning as he readjusted the mirrors, too. “I don’t wanna know their Thoughts, ’cuz I’m sure they’ve dirtier minds than I do.”

“Boys’ll be boys, no matter their age,” the middle-aged woman laughed.

“So, who’re the new peanuts I’m seeing in the backseat?” Zep asked, making sure he was buckled in before even checking for traffic.

“Levi’s lil friend, Raine, and her baby sister, Jorja,” she answered. “Raine’s mom sent a note with her last week for your sistersta gimme, asking if they could come home with us this afternoon.”

“I’m guessing their parents’d something to do and couldn’t pick ’em up?” the teen asked, exercising the utmost Caution as he pulled away from the curb.

“That’s what her note said,” Belle answered, nodding. “It didn’t say what exactly they’d to do, but it doesn’t really matter. Your dads can handle the bar, if they haven’t come to pick ’em up by the Time we’re ready to open, and I can go in a few hours later than normal.”

“Perks of owning your own business, huh?” he chuckled. He was still extremely careful with his driving as he aimed the truck for home, which was his norm since he normally had at least one of his siblings in the back seat when he was allowed to drive.

“Got that right, son,” the middle-aged woman laughed.

It wasn’t long before they were pulling into their driveway, the eyes of Raine and Jorja widening in surprised Awe when they saw the front of the house. She didn’t know if their home was anywhere near close to looking like this or not, and she didn’t particularly care about such details. Belle was more concerned with the fact that–like always when her older son was driving–they’d arrived at their destination in one piece.

Upon getting into the house, the kids all scattered to their bedroomsta put down their bookbags and get out their stuff to work on homework. Their lil guests seemed a bit wary when Bobby and Duff emerged from the office and greeted their shared wife with a kiss, most likely due to their height. Course, both girls were quick to warm up to them once they smiled at them and gently tickled their ribs, which was apparently a familiar gesture to both. Raine was quick to join the older kids at the table in the breakfast nook so she could do her homework, while Jorja seemed to wanna stick close to the matriarch of the family.

Once they were sure said older kids couldn’t hear, both bassists were quick to remark on how much lil Raine reminded them both of Bret. Even though they hadn’t seen the blonde vocalist in upwards of a decade, they’d both kept up with their old bands and what they’d been up to over the Years. In keeping up with said bands, they knew what every member–current and former–looked like, and both agreed that they’d swear these two girls were the Poison front man’s daughters.

“I dunno if they are or not,” Belle told them with a shrug, Jorja still snuggled against her breast. “Their mother’s note was signed _K. Gibson,_ but I thought he and his old flame, Kristi, broke up Years ago.”

“They’ve been on-again, off-again so much, it’s hard to keep track most Days,” the older bassist said.

“Which means it’s very possible that they got back together a Time or two and had kids of their own,” his musical counterpart added.

“Very possibly, but does it really matter to us?” she asked. “My bigger concern for the moment’s that these two girls’re taken care of when their parents’re unavailable.”

“Good point, sugar,” Bobby agreed, nodding. “Whoever they are, at least said parents’re making sure their girls’re being taken care of in their absences.”

“It could definitely be worse, for sure,” the younger bassist said with a nod of his own.

Even though lil Jorja wanted to stay snuggled against the woman holding her, she was quickly convinced to sit with Duff so said woman could get started on dinner. While she might be able to go in right at opening instead of a couple hours earlier like she normally did, her men still had to go in those couple hours early. It was always best to go in then so they could start setting up for what was bound to be a busy Night, that way one of them could run out to pick up anything the bar needed, such as lemons.

By four-thirty, dinner’d been served and everybody’d practically licked their plates clean before the bassists headed off to their respective master suite. They always changed into a pair of jeans paired with one of the shirts their shared wife’d make for the bar, complete with said bar’s logo, which closely resembled the Beach out in the Malibu area.

It wasn’t long after they’d changed their clothes and gathered their essentials that Bobby and his slightly-younger counterpart were headed out the door. They both paused long enough to give Belle a quick goodbye kiss, both saying that if they didn’t see her at the bar, it was either ’cuz they’d run out to restock a few things or it wasn’t their fault. She knew damn good and well they meant that they’d gotten into a wreck or something, but it wasn’t gonna be caused by them and they simply hadn’t been able to avoid it. Closing the front door behind them so she could get back to watching kids, the middle-aged woman couldn’t help but hope that Raine and Jorja’s parents came to pick them up soon.

The surprise she got, though, when she answered her front door about an hour later was certainly the last thing she’d have expected.

* * *

“Good Gods, kid–didja forget what key you’re supposed to be in or something?”

Bobby couldn’t resist taking the chance for some good-Natured ribbing toward the bassist of a young Poison cover band that played his bar at least one Friday Night a month. Even though he hadn’t played any of his old band’s songs in quite a while–and he meant _actually_ played them, not just their CDs through his stereo–he could still tell this kid was _waaaay_ outta tune. After all, he’d written damn near every bass riff this kid played–and he’d been pretty quick to catch on to the ones Richie’d written after his departure from the band–so he could tell whether the tuning was right or not.

“Oh, like _you_ can do any better, old man!” the young man snapped, clearly in a really bad mood.

The look that settled over his face was one that flat-out screamed, _Challenge accepted, brat!_

“Oh, shit, kid,” Duff laughed, catching the look on his musical counterpart’s face as he came outta the bar office. “I dunno what the hell ya just said, but Bobby ain’t liking it.”

“He basically just challenged him to find out who can play _Your Mama Don’t Dance_ better,” the young man’s vocalist–who was almost a dead-ringer for the eighties version of Bret–told him.

“This is gonna be good, then,” he laughed, settling on a bar stool to watch as the older bassist veritably snatched the kid’s bass outta his hands. “Show him who’s in charge here, man!”

“Damn right, I am!” Bobby growled into the mic that was in front of him. “Ain’t nobody gonna tell me I dunno what this particular song’s supposed to sound like without me showing ’em up!”

He couldn’t help the slight country twang, considering his temper was somewhat getting the better of him at the moment and all the Years he’d lived in Tennessee. Said twang definitely wasn’t as strong as his wife’s when she was in a good mood, which turned into an out-and-out drawl when she got pissed. But that was a trivial matter as he retuned the bass now slung over his shoulder once he’d lengthened the strap attached to it a bit, carefully making sure each string was dropped from standard, but still sharp.

Nodding to the cover band’s drummer, he gave him the signal to count them in, carefully waiting for his cue as he started up his rhythm. That drum rhythm was quickly followed by CC’s lead riff, although it obviously wasn’t the cracker jack of a guitarist he’d once played with currently playing. And even though it had to’ve been a dozen Years since he’d played this song, Bobby’s Timing was still just as perfect as it ever was.

Easily back-burning his shock at how well one of the three bar owners was upstaging his band mate, the young vocalist launched into the lead vocals once he’d gotten his cue. Their guitarist covered CC’s backing line, easily hitting the ungodly high notes the shortest blonde’d hit when Poison’d recorded this cover back in early-1988. Course, none of the young cover band were expecting the older bassist to take a step closer to the mic in front of him and cover the lead-ins and infamous one-liner their own bassist normally covered. They certainly weren’t expecting to practically hear a live version of what they heard outta their stereos every Time they threw _Open Up_ into their disc changersta play.

By the End of the song, Bobby knew damn good and well he’d more than upstaged the lil brat who’d challenged him, whether he’d meant to or not. He’d pretty much made the kid bow his head in shame and vow to never touch another string instrument, judging by the look he got once he’d picked out those last two notes before killing the amp he was using. Then again, the kid shouldn’t have challenged him, whether he’d known he was looking Poison’s former bassist in the face every month or not. No one on the Planet besides maybe Richie was gonna know this material better, and the reasons why were obviousta those in the know.

“Ya know what?” said brat snapped as he made to hand his bass back to him. “Maybe ya oughta just play the whole damn set tonight, Mr. Show-Off.”

“Ya really wanna go there, kid?” the older bassist retorted, his brow cocked challengingly. “’Cuz I’m the wrong sum-bitch to be issuing a challenge like that to.”

“Ya really might wanna rethink that, kiddo,” Duff chuckled from where he was sitting. “He’s not just gonna get through the set flawlessly–he’s gonna tear your band to shreds from the inside out while he’s at it, if ya challenge him like that.”

“I’m kinda curious as to how he managed to get through this particular cover so easily,” their drummer spoke up as he rose from the stool behind his kit.

“Oh, it’s only been about a dozen Years since I played it onstage,” Bobby said, absently examining his nails, now that the bass he’d swiped was sitting on a stand since its owner’d refused to take it from him.

“Wait a minute–what?” he asked, rearing back as if he’d slapped him.

“Good Gods–I know my appearance hasn’t Changed _that_ fuckin’ much,” the older bassist said, complete with an eye-roll.

“You’re not fuckin’ with us, are ya?” This came from their own version of CC.

“Fuck me–am I gonna have to dive into even _Good Love_ to pound it through your skulls?” he countered.

That was one Poison song they couldn’t seem to get the hang of, no matter how many Times they tried running through it during their Sound checks.

“Or maybe I should go nuts and dive into _Talk Dirty to Me,_ then _Let it Play_ after that,” Bobby groused, rolling his eyes again. “’Cuz I never got tired of those any more than I tired of playing _Ride the Wind_ live.”

His musical counterpart couldn’t help but practically die laughing, damn near falling off his bar stool as those kids’ jaws dropped lower and lower with every Poison song he listed. What was even funnier was when he gestured to him to grab their guitarist’s axe, knowing damn good and well that–in the Years since they’d quit their respective band–he’d practiced the riffs enough to damn near upstage CC. Nodding as a grin spread across his face, the younger bassist headed over and snatched up said axe, strap slung over his shoulder like it hadn’t been over a decade since he’d been onstage.

Stomping his boot, Duff counted them in before he ripped into the opening riff of _Ride the Wind,_ playing it so flawlessly that it was almost like _he’d_ been the one to write and track it all those Years ago. The older bassist didn’t miss a single beat once he’d gotten to his cue, nor did he fuck up on a single lyric as he moved to start singing lead. He certainly hadn’t sang lead in his old band very often, and even then, such an occurrence’d only been during Sound check to preserve their vocalist’s voice for the actual show.

By the Time they rounded out even that song, both were starting to feel the familiar itch of wanting to storm a stage. It was an itch neither’d felt since their last live performances not quite thirteen Years ago, but that didn’t matter to them. Maybe it was Time to get in touch with their old band mates and see about at least jamming before they made any split decisions on rejoining said bands. After all, they’d their bar to think of–which meant finding folksta keep it running smoothly in their absence, were they to actually rejoin their bands and go on tour again. They couldn’t just leave it to the Wolves, ’cuz there was only so much their shared wife could do to keep money coming in, if they were to ever do such a thing.

Neither Bobby, nor Duff were expecting the front door to open as they set the instruments they were holding on their stands again. They certainly weren’t expecting to see not just that aforementioned wife, but a fairly big group hot on her heels as she walked in. Both almost started to shoo the group back outside on the grounds that they weren’t open for business yet–but they quickly stopped themselves upon realizing who it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I often do when I start looking at real estate listings online to use as a setting for my stories, there's the link to the Chandler, Arizona home I picked for this chapter. I haven't really described it, and I blatantly Changed one part of the home's layout to suit this particular family better, but I still figured that some folks might want the visual.  
> ~Firefly
> 
> Link to House–https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2067-E-Teakwood-Pl-Chandler-AZ-85249/67760865_zpid/?


	17. Sixteen

Bobby damn near couldn’t believe his eyes as he gaped at the group that followed his shared wife into his bar as if nothing outta the ordinary was going on. He hadn’t bothered keeping in touch with, let alone actually seen any of them since that disastrous performance at the _MTV VMAs_ in 1991, in CC’s case, that last show when Bret tried to fire Richie, in the latter’s. Sure, he’d kept up with the band and the Changes they’d made since his departure–which was Richie taking over his role as bassist and being replaced by Blues Saraceno as lead guitarist till their resident cracker jack was brought back into the fold–but that wasn’t the same as actually staying in touch.

Each of his former band mates’d Changed in his own ways, some more so than others, but they were still easily recognizable. Bret was every bit as tan as he’d ever been and still sported his notorious long, blonde hair–as well as a couple additional tattoos–not to mention his blue eyes were still every bit as piercing. Young Richie’d cut off easily half his hair and grown out a goatee that made him look eerily reminiscent to Johnny Depp, his own blue eyes still just as piercing as they’d ever been.

Like his former replacement that he now played alongside as if he’d always been part of the band, CC’d lopped off damn near all the Platinum hair he was so known for. It was no doubt still easy to tease and spike up whenever he felt the need, ’cuz he hadn’t cut it _that_ short, but it was still a lot shorter than he remembered. And just like the other two, his bright blue eyes still shone with a Happiness almost nobody could ever match.

And as if following an unspoken suit that even the older bassist’d followed after his departure from the band, even Rikki’d gotten in on lopping off his hair. Gone were the honey-blonde locks that’d damn near reached his nipples the last Time they’d seen each other, only to be replaced by a much shorter version of his late-eighties hairdo. Said locks were still every bit as dyed and highlighted as they’d ever been, considering that he was actually a Natural brunette, but that didn’t matter. Not only that, but his own aqua-blue eyes radiated his own brand of Happiness while still managing to cut to the quick when he wanted them to.

“Holy shit,” Bobby breathed, his own Chocolate eyes no doubt the size of dinner plates. “Duff, man–slap the shit outta me, ’cuz I think I need it right about now.”

“Ya sure ya want me to do that, dude?” the younger bassist chuckled. “’Cuz if you’ll recall, I can pack a nasty blow, whether it’s right- or left-handed.”

“On second Thought, maybe ya ought not do that,” he laughed. “I’d rather my brains stay in my head, thank ya very much.”

“That surprised to see us, huh?” Rikki asked, finally stepping forward to grab him in a Bear-hug.

“Not like I ever expected my former band to step foot through my doors!” Bobby retorted, even as he Returned the bone-crushing hug.

“We come here all the Time when the guys’re in town,” Bret chuckled, moving in for his turn–albeit far more gently–once he’d been let go.

“Wait, what?” the older bassist asked, taking a step back to look down at him since he was still a few inches taller.

“I moved to Scottsdale Years ago, man,” he laughed. “Whenever they come out here so we can work, but me not have to leave my girls as much, we head here to Paradise City to unwind before we kill each other.”

“Shoulda known who this bar was owned by, based on the name,” CC snickered, moving to give him a hug of his own.

“Sweet Lord and Lady, man–I just barely remember the last Time I saw _you,”_ he told him, careful not to damn near break him since he was considerably shorter.

“Well, it’s only been fifteen Years, man!” the crazy guitarist crowed with a grin. “I’m not surprisedja barely remember, even if ya _were_ sober back then!”

“Definitely been a long Time, Bobby,” even Richie agreed as he moved to hug him. “Gotta say, I never got the chanceta thank ya for at least _trying_ to pull Bret’s head outta his ass that Night.”

“Hey!” said vocalist squawked, making the entire group laugh.

“So, ya _really were_ once in Poison,” the vocalist of the cover band, Jack, mused with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I was,” Bobby answered, nodding as they moved to appropriate one of the nearby tables that’d fit the entire group. “Hence why I got so irked at your bassist and his challenge earlier.”

Naturally, the rest of his former band couldn’t help their Curiosity as to what he meant, which just made him and Duff both crack up again. Even Belle was amused as he ran through how he’d been playfully ribbing their bassist about his instrument being outta tune, which’d led to him inadvertently issuing a challenge to him. Unable to resist being challenged now any more than he’d been able to in his younger Years, he’d put his money where his mouth was and totally upstaged the kid like it hadn’t been over a decade since he’d last been on a stage.

There was a part of Bobby that was surprised to find out the girls who’d wound up coming home with his wife and kids _really were_ his former band mate’s daughters. On the flip side, there was a part of him that _wasn’t_ surprised, considering what man-whores they’d all been at one point or another. He’d known there’d come a Day that at least one other band mate besides him’d become a daddy, whether it was planned or not.

It felt pretty good to be able to catch up with said former band mates, who were surprised to find out that he and the younger bassist both’d wound up siring a second child apiece. Course, they seemed even more surprised that they were both still with the same woman after nineteen Years, that neither of their relationships with her’d fallen apart. That bespoke without question just how strong those relationships really were, not to mention the effort they put into keeping them alive after so long. Each of the guys that currently made up Poison seemed a bit wistful as they looked at them, as if they were Wishing they’d that kinda longevity in the Romantic department.

As they sat there catching up on anywhere from ten to fifteen Years, Bobby wasn’t surprised to find out that Rikki and Deanna’d eventually split up following his departure. The drummer just couldn’t take anymore of her cheating and especially going after his band mates behind his back, and had decided to call it quits. If he was surprised by any part of that situation, it was prolly that Richie’d gone on to have a relationship with her that went as far as marriage–and a subsequent divorce–as well as a daughter of his own.

“Yeah, that was a fuckin’ mistake on my part,” the younger brunette sighed, fiddling with the glass of Pepsi Belle’d gotten him. “I mean, I love August and all–she’s my entire World, if I’m honest–but I coulda made a better choice in who her mother was, for sure.”

“Shoulda known when she kept trying to come on to ya behind Rikki’s back she was nothing but trouble,” the older bassist told him. “But hey, sometimes ya gotta learn the hard way.”

“Oh, trust me–I _definitely_ learned the hard way with that one,” he chuckled. “Hence why, crazy though it might sound considering how young I was at the Time, I got myself snipped after that shit.”

“Doesn’t sound crazy in the least, man,” Bobby laughed. “’Cuz after Zephie was born, I did the same thing.”

“Same here once Levi was born,” the younger bassist agreed. “I rather like my nuts where they belong, not stapled to the side of my head.”

The rest of Poison damn near died laughing as they recalled what they’d been told the Day the trio brought Zep home from the hospital back in 1990.

“Okay, I’ll admit that I don’t get it,” Jack said, sounding as bewildered as he looked.

“Long story short, I made the mistake of saying something about wanting my nutsta remain where they were when our wife went into labor with the overall oldest, my son Zeppelin,” Bobby explained. “Each Time she went into labor, she’d threaten to rip our nuts off and staple them to the side of our head, if we dared complain about her even breaking our hands from how tight she’d squeeze them.”

“Ouch,” the much-younger man laughed, now getting the inside joke. “No Wonder the rest of the guys started laughing.”

“She’s a feisty lil thing, that’s for damn sure,” Duff chuckled, letting out an _Oof!_ that was quickly followed by harder laughter as said wife gently socked him in the gut. “That all ya got, sweetheart?”

“Watch it, McKagan–them’s fightin’ words,” she giggled.

“I guess I’m more surprised by the business ya decided to go into after the band than anything,” Bret finally said once everyone’d Calmed down.

“Hey, just ’cuz we’re recovering alcoholics don’t mean shit,” the younger bassist said, clearly fighting back a grin. “We’ve the Willpower _not_ to go back to our dastardly ways–not to mention every reason in the World to stay sober, even while owning and operating a bar.”

The cover band seemed particularly interested in how such a decision’d come about, although the guys that currently made up Poison couldn’t say they were any less curious. Bobby wasn’t the least bit shy about filling them in, starting with how he’d always wanted a bar that was themed more toward the type of Music he made back when he was still a drinking man. He’d given the idea some serious Thought before even mentioning it to his shared wife and younger counterpart, and he’d figured he wasn’t the only one to ever feel that way.

Granted, all the guys were surprised to find out that the trio’d not only gone to college, but graduated as damn near valedictorian of their respective classes. They were equally surprised to find out what order they’d each gone to college in as much as they were to find out their respective majors. None of them’d expected Duff to wanna get into business, although the fine Arts and culinary weren’t quite as surprising for Belle and the older bassist. And they knew that somebody’d to go for a major in Hospitality, considering the type of business they’d decided to open together. What none of them–not even the young cover band–were surprised by was how cohesively their degrees worked together in getting this bar up and running.

It wasn’t long before said trio were forced into jumping in to help their staff, who all veritably worshipped the very ground they walked on. Opening was at seven, which gave enough Time for a big enough crowd to warrant playing to to arrive and start their relaxation routines. The young cover band wasn’t due to start their set till eight, which was pretty typical on any given Friday or Saturday Night that they played here.

None of the members of Poison, especially the founding ones, could help a smile as they enjoyed themselves as much as they always did, even though they now knew who owned their favorite bar. They even traded a few words with the cover band to talk them into swapping spots during their breaks, as long as their former bassist’d agree to join them. It might be a far cry from the good ol’ Days when they were all drunk and/or high off their asses and having the Time of their Lives, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a lil fun together while the opportunity was before them.

Bobby required a bit of sweet-talking before he’d agree to go onstage with his old band, he and Richie agreeing to basically have a round of _Dueling Basses_ tonight. He knew the younger brunette wasn’t nearly as fond of Poison’s old party anthems, but he’d still learned the material since he loved being in the band. Getting to play onstage with the man who’d become his predecessor again was an Honor that not many got in their Lifetime, so he was more than agreeable to sharing the role–and spotlight. Once they’d talked him into it, he just needed a few minutesta warm up and run through the songs, if only ’cuz he hadn’t played most of them in forever and a Year. But just like during rehearsal for a fresh tour, it all came back to him as if it’d been only a mere week, not upwards of a decade in most of the songs’ cases.


	18. Seventeen

“All right, guys–Time for our first break, but don’t worry, ’cuz we’ll be back later on in the Night,” Jack said, grinning as he caught his breath after the first two hours of his band’s set. “In the meantime, we’ve something special for ya that was just as much a surprise for us! Help us give a warm welcome to the original _Glam, Slam, Kings of Noise,_ Poison!”

Just as they’d planned once they’d managed to talk their former bassist into joining them for the Night, said band headed out to swipe the cover band’s instruments so they could keep the show going. Well, Bobby didn’t have to swipe their bassist’s gear–he always kept a bass and amp of his own in the office for the slow Nights when he ran outta thingsta restock and clean so he wouldn’t go insane. To that End, he’d already set up his old Harley Davidson bass that pretty much hadn’t seen the Light of Day since the _Open Up_ tour back in 1988 and 1989 following all the Time Travel Insanity.

“How y’all doing tonight?” Bret asked the crowd, grinning as they practically went insane with Joy. “Now, before we get this party started, help us give an even bigger and warmer welcome to a face that hasn’t been seen with us in a long Time!”

Taking his cue, the older brunette stepped outta the Shadows, strap already slung over his shoulder as the crowd somehow went even more insane. “Certainly a warm welcome, y’all–and I don’t mean the stage lights, either!” he chuckled into the mic in front of him.

“This was definitely a surprise for all of us, but let’s have ourselves _Nothin’ but a Good Time!”_ the blonde vocalist yelled, effectively calling out their first song as he did.

Belle couldn’t help the grin on her face any more than Duff could as they watched from behind the bar, where they helped their barmaids keep up with filling the orders they took. It’d been so long since she’d seen either of her guys get to rock out, let alone with their old bands, and she was beyond happy that her older husband was getting this chance. He’d come to miss what he’d once done by way of making a living, even though not even being faced with the business End of any of her weapons could get him to admit it. This kinda thing no doubt didn’t happen very often once a band effectively broke up, and she was happy that he was getting this kinda chance.

Several patrons managed to ask her if he’d really once been a part of Poison, and she couldn’t help the proud grin on her face as she confirmed that. It was easy to tell by the appearance of these folks that they were too young to remember the original lineup of the band, as per their debut album. No doubt they thought anything they could find on the Internet, now that it was even a thing, were just rumors and speculation.

After about an hour of playing some of their biggest hits, Poison got ready to take a break of their own and let the cover band take over again. They’d been the onesta work hard for this particular gig, and they refused to steal their Thunder as much as simply keep the party going for them. There was a big difference between those two things, after all, and it was a difference that all of them–even the older bassist–knew well. Besides, said older bassist needed to get back to work since he never allowed himself to slack off any more than his shared wife and the blonde of their trio did while they were here.

Duff and said wife were at the ready with cool towels and fresh Water bottles as they found a placeta chill out and catch their breath as much as they’d been for the cover band. Bobby managed to smile his thanksta them as much as the rest of his former band, but they knew what was really going through his head. He was missing his old Life even more than he’d been when that old Life’d essentially walked up to slap him in the face so unexpectedly.

“What’s wrong, love?” Belle asked, a bit of concern momentarily marring her features.

“Not the Time and place, sugar,” he answered, panting only slightly as he caught his breath. “We’ll talk about it later since we’ve the bar to worry about right now.”

“Or not since I can still readja just as well as I could back in ’88,” the middle-aged woman giggled. “Same goes for Duff, too.”

“Oh, really–and what’s that supposed to mean?” Bobby asked, chuckling as he opened his Water bottle.

“You’re missing it more than you’ve ever let on–and maybe even realized, yourself till ya got up on that stage with ’em,” she answered without the slightest hesitation.

“Damn, ya _really do_ know me better than I know myself,” the older bassist admitted, unable to help a blush as the entirety of said band’s eyes locked onto him. “What?”

“Why didn’tcha ever get back in touch with us, then?” Bret asked. He sounded more curious and dumbfounded than condescending.

“Like I said to start with, not the Time or place,” he told him. “I don’t ever slack off in front of my employees so they won’t start thinking it’s okay for _them_ to do that, and tonight’s not gonna be an exception just ’cuz ya guys’re here.”

“Works for us, dude,” Rikki said with a nod. “We’re still in town for a few Days, so it could be put off till tomorrow, for all I care.”

The rest of the band, even the notoriously-pushy vocalist, were quick to agree with the drummer.

“Then let’s just make it till closing with anyone getting killed–and hope that Duff and I don’t need to become bouncers again,” Bobby laughed.

Not even Richie could help a bout of laughter at the Thought of the two bassists having to act as bouncers at their own bar a few Times. There wasn’t a doubt in any Otherworld that they both knew how to fight–brawling was just one thing that Poison and GN’R both were known for back in the Day, after all. But if anything besides just find out exactly _who_ owned their favorite bar surprised them, it was most likely that they were both capable of breaking up other fights and tossing out problem patrons without actually taking any swings.

It seemed that the rest of the Night completely flew by, Poison going up to play another hour between the cover band’s sets. The older bassist made it clear to the crowd that this wasn’t gonna become a regular occurrence, ’cuz he wasn’t letting his bar go to Hell just to make guest appearances with his old band. Many of the patrons–the ones actually sober, that is–could totally understand that and simply enjoy it while it lasted.

After the last patron’d left and the doors were locked so no more could come in, the rest of Poison actually stuck around to help the employees and owners clean up. None of them’d go so far as to say the place was completely trashed, but one’d certainly think that, if they’d seen how it looked before opening. Still, considering that Bobby’d agreed to play a couple hours with them, they figured that helping him clean up his establishment since a lotta the mess no doubt came from their surprise appearance was the least they could do. Course, none of them said they were hoping to get some brownie points toward talking him into joining them for a Summer tour next Year, if nothing else.

With the building locked up and his old band headed back to Bret’s house for the Night, the older bassist all but curled up in his wife’s back seat. Belle almost always drove home ’cuz she seemed to be the only one still awake enough at the End of a long, busy Night at the bar. Even Duff was usually starting to doze off by the Time they started to head back home at some point during the Witching Hour. She didn’t mind getting them home safely, considering they’d a family to get back to in one piece, and she couldn’t help the smile on her face tonight, considering everything that’d happened.


	19. Eighteen

The next Morn, Zep was up decently early with the rest of his siblings, considering that they more or less stayed on the same schedule for school, even on the weekends. All the parents were still asleep, even though it was already edging on eleven, ’cuz it’d no doubt been close to three-thirty before they’d gotten home last Night. Closing at Paradise City wasn’t till two, and they almost always stayed late to get everything cleaned up before they’d allow themselvesta come home. On the busier Nights–usually Fridays and Saturdays–there was almost always more of a messta clean up, so it always took a lil longer than on a slow Night like Wednesdays.

He wasn’t expecting the doorbell to ring outta nowhere, ’cuz as far as he knew, their parents weren’t supposed to be having any friends over or anything. They might be a bit forgetful sometimes due to having four kids, but they were generally pretty good about warning them when they were having folks over. Not knowing who coulda rang the doorbell, though, made him grab his mother’s pistol from the top of the fridge before he moved to answer the door.

Seeing the brunette woman who’d come to pick up Raine and Jorja yesterday along with said lil girls and their blonde of a dad wasn’t all that surprising. Zep relaxed enough to thumb the safety back on, although he kept the pistol he held out in plain sight of the group waiting outside his front door. After all, he didn’t recognize the other blondes, nor the lone brunette man that was with them, and he wasn’t about to give them a chanceta hurt any of his siblings. Considering that he was the oldest one awake right now, it was up to him to keep the family safe, and he took that particular duty with the utmost seriousness. If that wasn’t evident by how he’d answered the door brandishing a pistol, he wasn’t too sure how much clearer he could make it.

“Well, can’t say I expected to see you again, Mr. Michaels,” he said, still blocking the front door with his own body.

“Let’s just say I wasn’t planning this when Kristi and I came to pick up the girls yesterday Eve,” Bret chuckled. “But we made a bit of a discovery last Night, just in the wrong place and at the wrong Time.”

The teenager couldn’t help his confused look.

“What–no hugs for your Uncles Rikki, CC, and Richie?” the tallest blonde laughed, aqua eyes twinkling almost mischievously.

“Wait a minute–what?” Zep asked, his own eyes widening in surprise.

“I’m not surprisedja don’t remember us, kiddo,” the lone brunette man told him with a chuckle of his own. “It’s been a long Time, andja were knee-high to a Crawdad, as your mom likesta say.”

“Still look every bit as much like your dad as ya did when ya were born, though,” the shortest blonde told him. “Hell, I daresay we were right about Bobby not needing Belle to reproduce back then!”

“Okay, okay, enough of that–I don’t wanna or need to know what the hell the parents get up to behind closed doors!” he laughed, now starting to feel a bit more at ease. “I obviously know they’d to have sex at least four Times, or we kids wouldn’t exist–but that doesn’t mean I want details about it!”

Making it abundantly clear that he knew what he was doing with weapons and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot them, if need be–despite their apparent friendship with the parents–the teenager moved to let them in. All of them nodded as they followed him past the dining room to where the living room was on the back side of the house, opening into the breakfast nook and kitchen mostly open-concept-style. He bade them to make themselves comfy as he peeked out the back window, knowing his siblings’d decided to head out for an early swim, before telling them he’d to go get the parents up.

Zep headed down the short hall that was to the left when one first walked through the front door, which led to his dad’s domain. Considering that it was closer, he’d no doubt that even Duff was hiding out there as they got some sleep since they’d no doubt gotten home pretty late. If it turned out that the younger bassist _wasn’t_ upstairs, he’d head down to the basement to the sub-master suite then and not a moment sooner.

He turned out to be right as he Silently slipped into the master suite, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the Darkness brought on by the drawn black-out curtains. While it certainly wasn’t an easy feat, he managed to make out three distinct lumps that were snuggled up more so in the Center of the California-King bed than they weren’t. Careful to make sure he didn’t trip over any boots he couldn’t see or anything else, he headed over to what he knew was his dad’s side of the bed in question.

Bobby started awake with a snort when he felt something grab his bare shoulder and gently shake him, knowing it’d to be one of the kids. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he reached over to turn his lamp on to the dimmest setting to avoid blinding himself, and he wasn’t surprised to see his own son standing next to the bed. What he _was_ a bit surprised by was that he told him there was a group of guys here claiming they were his uncles, most of them some shade of blonde. He couldn’t help a sleepy groan as even Belle and Duff started to stir a bit, already knowing who it was based on that description. Even still, he told his son to go keep them occupied and start a pot of coffee for the trio so they could get up and get some clothes on.

_“Mmmph,”_ his shared wife grumbled when he managed to extricate himself and sit up.

“Go back to sleep if ya wanna, sugar,” the older bassist said, unable to help Ending his sentence with a yawn. “I gotta get up, like it or not.”

“Whas goin’ on?” Duff asked sleepily, spitting out part of their shared wife’s hair since it’d somehow Ended up in his mouth.

“Dumbasses from last Night showed up,” he answered, stretching before he stood up. “And I think we all know they’re not going away, especially now that they’ve found me again.”

“Might as well get up, myself,” the younger bassist said. “’Cuz Gypsi and Levi aren’t gonna be happy that there’re weirdos here unless Daddy’s up, especially Levi.”

“Not to mention you’ve prolly gotta piss like a Russian race Horse,” Bobby chuckled.

“Yeah, that too, unfortunately,” he agreed with a chuckle of his own as his musical counterpart headed off to take his turn.

“Don’t wanna,” Belle grumbled into her pillow.

“Then stay here and go back to sleep, like he said,” Duff chuckled, gently rubbing her back. “We both know you’re far from being a Morn person, even all these Years later.”

“Good–Mama likey teh seeps,” she told him, her voice even more muffled as she buried her face.

Not wanting to keep her up since she was obviously gonna be _in a mood,_ if he did, the younger bassist crawled outta the bed he’d crashed in the Night before. He didn’t normally sleep in the main master suite with the other couple, but last Night’d been one of the rare exceptions. Despite the rest of Poison having jumped in to help them, their after-hours cleanup effort’d taken so long that it’d been nearly four in the Morn before they’d gotten home. It was both easier and safer for him to just crash upstairs, rather than trying to stumble down the basement stairsta his own room–and without waking the boys, to boot.

As the younger bassist took his turn in the bathroom moments later, Bobby hid in his adjoining closet so he could grab some clothes. He didn’t particularly give a damn if everybody upstairs’d seen him in as lil as his under britches at one point or another–he wasn’t about to leave his room without getting dressed. Besides, all the adults made it a point _not_ to run around in their skivvies when the kids were awake, if they could help it.

Out in the living room, he was forced to grunt and wave off the guys he’d once Traveled the World with several Times over. Luckily for him, even CC remembered that he wasn’t much of a Morn person–especially when he hadn’t yet gotten his coffee–and backed off with soft chuckles. Zep seemed a bit surprised by that, making him smirk slightly and roll his eyes as he told him that it mighta been a while since they’d been in touch, but they’d gotten to know him pretty well back in the Day. A lot mighta Changed since his departure from the band–and the same was true for Duff and GN’R–but he hadn’t Changed _that_ much as a man.

“Trust me, kiddo–your dad was the one who’d start fights over coffee back then,” Bret chuckled, bouncing his younger daughter on his knee.

“Bobby was always the slave-driver who got the rest of us–excluding Richie, that is–outta bed and into the studio when we were recording _Look What the Cat Dragged In_ and _Open Up,_ but he definitely didn’t like it,” the tallest blonde agreed.

Lil Raine was sitting in the tallest blonde’s lap since her daddy’s was currently appropriated by her baby sister.

“Ain’t gotta hold your tongues in front of Zep, guys,” the older bassist finally said as he poured his coffee, his voice deeper and more gravelly than normal since he was still half-asleep. “It’s the rest of the kids, especially Zeph and Levi, that we try to watch our mouths around.”

“Which one’s which, if ya don’t mind my asking?” Richie asked, cocking a curious brow toward the back windows.

Taking a quick glance out it for himself, he couldn’t help a chuckle, pointing out each child as he said their name. “Gypsi’s the one in the hot tub on the other side of the outdoor kitchen, Zephie’s the goofball on the waterslide, and Levi’s up in the shallow End of the pool.”

“So, whose is whose?” the drummer asked.

“Zep and Zeph’re mine, Gypsi and Levi’re Duff’s,” Bobby answered, straightening so he could yawn and claim his own seat. “And we decided that the four between us were more than enough, so we took measuresta make sure no _happy accidents_ happened after Zeph and Levi were born, respectively.”

“Well, from what I remember about Belle, you’re lucky as hell that Zep was born,” the shortest blonde chuckled.

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?” said teenager asked, settling in the floor where he could keep an eye on his siblings for his dad as he continued his wake-up process.

“He means that Mom didn’t want kids when she met the two of us, kiddo.”

Looking up at the Sound of a much higher, but still masculine voice, most of them turning so they could see clearly, they saw Duff coming through the archway between the living room and foyer.

“Mom didn’t consider herself _mother material,_ and she’d decided she didn’t want kids Years before she met the two of us,” the slightly taller, blonde bassist explained. “When she found out she and your dad were gonna have you–well, she still didn’t really want kids, but she couldn’t bring herself to abort, either.”

“So, I was basically a _happy accident,_ as Dad put it?” he asked.

“Pretty much,” Duff answered, nodding as he walked off to pour his own coffee. “So was Gypsi, for that matter, so no need to go feeling guilty or something goofy.”

“Ah, who’re _you_ kidding, Duff?” Bobby asked with a chuckle. “All four of ’em were happy accidents, but that doesn’t mean we love ’em any less.”

The rest of Poison couldn’t help laughing and playfully teasing him about now having a bit of a country drawl compared to the last Time they’d really been in contact with him. He rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at them almost like a petulant child, quick to remind them that he’d spent almost fifteen Years in Eastern Tenn. One thing that’d always been surprising about him was how quickly and easily he could pick up on an accent, if he was exposed to it for a long enough period of Time. It wasn’t all that surprising he’d picked up a bit of a drawl that wasn’t quite as thick as his shared wife’s, but certainly more prominent than any accent he’d sported in the Past.

Once he was awake enough to hold much more of a conversation, Bobby couldn’t help his Curiosity when it came to his old band actually showing up today. While they’d seemed curious when Belle’d called him out the Night previous, he hadn’t thought they’d actually follow up on it at the first available opportunity. Course, considering who these men were and how well they’d once known him, maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised by that.

Bret was quick to say that being onstage with him at the bar–even if he _was_ sharing his role with Richie during their short, impromptu sets–had felt a lot like old Times. There was a certain Energy they’d been missing ever since that Fateful Night that’d sent him packing and brought the _Native Tongue_ tour to an abrupt End as much as the vocalist’s actions toward the then-lead guitarist. No matter what combination of band members they’d tried since then’d felt the same, and they thought that was a lotta the reason why they’d gone several Years between tours a couple Times.

Humming thoughtfully as Duff rejoined the group, coffee mug in hand as he settled in his own recliner, the older bassist couldn’t help but admit that his best friend was right. He’d seen plenty of videos of their live performances over the Years, and it definitely seemed like something was missing to him. But he’d been happy with the Life he’d carved out for himself, so he hadn’t thought much of it during the interim.

Even CC was a bit surprised to hear the taller brunette admit that, as much as he loved his Life as a bar owner, he certainly missed being a part of the band, too. Letting out a soft chuckle as he sipped his coffee, the younger bassist was quick to agree with him, saying that there was a rush in touring and performing live that just couldn’t be replicated. There were Times that he missed that rush himself, but he’d far more problems when he’d parted ways with GN’R–which was pretty much a totally different band now. He couldn’t bring himself to even contact a band that was basically the Axl Rose Band, considering the ginger was the only remaining original member. Without the guys he’d once written and recorded _Appetite for Destruction_ with, it wasn’t the anywhere near the same band.

“Now, am I saying that I ever want back in?” Bobby reached over for his mug, which he’d sat on the end table next to him. “Eh, I’m not too sure about that. I like actually getting to be home and raise my kids in a more normal childhood than they’d get with me in and outta the studio, then on and off the road every Time an album got released.”

“Hey, I feel ya on that, man,” Bret chuckled, purposely bouncing Jorja to emphasize his point. “Never really understood whatcha meant back then till these two were born.”

“But now, it’s like you’re a workaholic just trying to express yourself at the same Time as trying to protect your lil princesses without actually laying your Life down for them, right?” the younger bassist laughed.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he answered, nodding. “I mean, I’m terrified one or both of them’ll get diagnosed with diabetes since neither have yet, and I’d do pretty much anything for them.”

“And I feel the same way about August, just without the diabetic angle,” the shorter brunette agreed.

“Who’s August?” Zep asked curiously.

“She’s _my_ daughter,” he answered with a chuckle. “She’s with her mom right now, which’s how it usually goes when I’m outta town to work with the band.”

The teenager simply nodded, apparently not feeling the need to question him further as if he could sense that it was a sensitive topic for him.

“Well, I think we all agreed a long Time ago that if ya ever wanna come back, that’s up to you, Bobby,” the drummer told him. “Do we hope that Day’ll eventually come? I think we’d all be lying, if we said no.”

“But we’re not gonna force ya into anything, especially now that we know you’re the one who owns our favorite haunt in Arizona,” CC added.

“Actually, I’m _not_ the sole owner,” the older bassist chuckled. “Belle, Duff, and I are equal owners.”

The entire group seemed a bit surprised to hear that, which led him into explaining how such a thing’d happened, starting with when he’d gotten home from that Fateful final tour. Considering they’d all chosen their respective major to compliment one another when opening and running such a business, it hadn’t seemed fair for just one of them to be sole owner. Not only that, but they did everything else in their home Lives in a joint effort, so they figured that owning the bar jointly was their best option.

Bobby couldn’t help the smile on his face as he told them that he wasn’t gonna kick them outta the bar, now that he knew they frequented it, but he wasn’t giving them any special treatment, either. Whenever they were on the premises, they were just another group of customers like anyone else was, as far as he was concerned. If the cops got called ’cuz trouble started brewing and one or more of them wound up arrested, he wasn’t gonna beg and plead that they not be hauled off on their behalf. They’d face the consequences of whatever they’d gotten themselves into, or they’d be deemed not guilty by those who needed to make such a judgment, if they simply wound up in the wrong place at the wrong Time.

None of them could blame him for feeling that way, even though they were all old friends with one another due to the Past they shared. However, they didn’t get a chanceta actually say it before the rest of the kids decided they were done swimming and ready for lunch, as evidenced by the somewhat literal stampede that came through the back door.

Even as he headed for the kitchen to whip up a huge lunch for even his old friends, the older bassist couldn’t help but think over their words. None of them said anything else about him rejoining the band, just like they’d essentially promised when CC’d assured him of that. But it was pretty obviousta even Duff that they wanted him back in the fold so bad, they could damn near taste it as easily as they could smell the culinary masterpiece he was working on. In fact, Belle even picked up on what they’d said when she finally decided to rise and shine a couple hours after Zep’d come to get him up. Still, he was gonna have to think long and hard before he decided to so much as jam with them again, let alone actually rejoined Poison as a full-Time member.


	20. Nineteen

The next couple months were relatively uneventful, despite Bret routinely hanging out at Paradise City on the weekends. In fact, the vocalist wasn’t just hanging out at the bar he and his band had adopted as a favorite haunt–he was spending a lotta Time at the home of his former bassist, too. Now knowing that he was living so closeta him, he wasn’t about to let their friendship slip through the cracks, if he could help it. He didn’t particularly care if he ever rejoined the band or not–he just wanted his best friend back since he felt like he’d lost even that when he’d quit the band.

Bobby couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy spending Time with the blonde–and even said blonde’s young daughters–and be telling the Truth. It was more than a lil fun to have him and his family over, provided that he and girlfriend Kristi weren’t fighting like a Cat and a Dog. That was where he’d to draw the line, if only ’cuz he and Duff didn’t fight with their shared wife in front of any of the kids, so he’d be damned if anyone else would.

Other than spending Time with his best friend and the man’s family–and therefore getting to know the man he’d become since mostly sobering up–he kept himself busy with his family and bar. Running Paradise City wasn’t as hard as it coulda been, what with himself, Belle, and the younger bassist all banding together like they did. Even though they all had their specialized degrees, they didn’t hesitate to turn to each other for help with a problem they were having, if ever such a thing arose. They’d double-check each other’s math, get each other’s input on T-shirt designs, and even taste-test recipes for dishes and drinksta serve to their loyal regulars and the newbies they often brought with them.

Still, the older bassist couldn’t seem to scratch that proverbial itch when it came to performing with his old band, and word was starting to get out. Bret’d called him one afternoon about a week after they’d crossed Paths again, wanting to give him a heads-up about something. It turned out that there’d been a paparazzo mingling amongst the crowd the Night they’d given their impromptu performance. There wasn’t a doubt in the blonde’s mind that rumors of the original Poison lineup getting back together were soon to start flying.

“Jeez, I’m starting to think that Night a couple months ago was one of the dumbest decisions I ever made.”

Belle looked up from her latest T-shirt design when she heard her older husband grumble after he’d obviously rejected a call in favor of sending it to voice mail. “Reporters still driving ya crazy?”

“Even the kids haven’t ever driven me _this_ crazy,” Bobby chuckled, laying his phone on the end table. “It almost makes me wanna either change my number, or get rid of my phone altogether.”

“That, or go totally off-grid and live like a bunch of reclusive pioneers,” the middle-aged woman snickered.

“Oh, don’t fuckin’ tempt me, sugar,” he laughed. “’Cuz at this point, I’m damn near ready to do it–just say the word, and I’m in.”

“Gotta get Duff and the kids in, too,” his shared wife pointed out. “’Cuz we’ll all be in it together.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” the older bassist said. “Doesn’t mean I can’t live in my own lil Fantasy when I’m at home so I can get away from the bullshit.”

_“Touché,_ love,” Belle agreed.

It wasn’t long before the doorbell rang, followed by an almost ridiculously-frantic banging on the front door that startled both of them. Even the younger bassist let out a startled yelp from where he was hanging out with the boys in the basement, the girls shrieking from their rooms. Not wanting to take any kinda chances since they’d never had anything like this happen–even in Tennessee–Bobby pushed himself up from his recliner and grabbed the pistol he’d bought Years ago.

Opening the door to find his best friend practically under attack by a group of paparazzi was even more startling. He was forced to let out an ear-piercing whistle to get their attention, pistol trained on the group’s apparent leader as he barked at them to get lost, or their families wouldn’t ever know where their graves were. Why said best friend had led them straight to his home was beyond him, but he was more concerned for his safety.

“Thanks, man,” Bret panted as he closed the door behind them and holstered his weapon. “I didn’t even know I was being followed till they ambushed me–I swear!”

“Only reason I’m inclined to believe that’s ’cuz, knowing you, if ya were gonna pull a stunt like this, you’d have done it right after we were reunited a couple months ago,” the older bassist said.

“Yeah, I woulda–but that’s _never_ been my style,” he chuckled.

“Damn, man.”

Turning from the front door, they saw Belle’d come to investigate the racket, now that everything’d quieted down.

“Get your ass in the kitchen,” she ordered the blonde. “You’re looking damn near like an assault-and-battery victim.”

“Shit,” he hissed, wiping his hand across his face and pulling it back to find blood. “Not good, what with being a diabetic.”

“Too well I know it,” the middle-aged woman agreed. “Diabetes ran in my family.”

“You’re kidding me,” Bret breathed, blue eyes wide with surprise since he’d never known that about her.

“Both types, before ya ask,” she told him. “I’m pretty sure it was mostly Type II stemming from bad Lifestyle choices that eventually morphed into Type I, but still–the fact remains that it’s rampant in my blood line.”

“So, ya already know that diabetics don’t Heal as well or fast as a normal person,” the vocalist mused.

“Among other things, yeah,” Belle answered, gently forcing him onto a bar stool at the island so she could clean him up. “Hence why you’re getting a few Witchy boosters, as long as you’re not allergic to anything I go with.”

Bobby was already busy with grabbing what he knew she was gonna want, even as his best friend cocked a brow curiously at her. He knew that Saltwater–made with Sea Salt, knowing his shared wife–was a pretty safe way to go for just about anyone, even if it burned like hell. Not only would it clean a wound, but it’d actually promote faster Healing, which was why it was often a go-to when the kids scraped their knees and what not.

Tea Tree oil, on the other hand, could sometimes prove to be an allergen, even if the only thing it caused was a bit of a rash. This was one Witch who didn’t believe in causing harm to another unless it was in an effort to preserve her own Life, or those of her kids, so she tried to avoid having such things happen. If that meant that she couldn’t use this particular Natural remedy on Bret, then she’d stick to just the Saltwater for the scratches all over his face and neck. At least he’d be getting his wounds cleaned before they could potentially get infected, which was never good for anyone.

Given that he didn’t know whether he was allergic to the oil or not and didn’t wanna find out the hard way, they opted to stick with just the Saltwater. Even the older bassist wasn’t surprised by his pained hissing and groaning as his shared wife gently dabbed at the wounds, cleaning away the blood as she disinfected everything. He also wasn’t surprised when her eyes widened at the sight of one gash closer to his hairline that could be hidden by a bandana, as long as it didn’t irritate the wound too much.

“You’re gonna need stitches for this one,” she proclaimed, throwing away yet another Saltwater-soaked Cotton ball.

“Wait, what?” Bret asked, rearing back slightly.

“Well, it’s true, if ya don’t want a scar across the forehead,” the middle-aged woman told him.

“She’s right, Bret,” Bobby agreed after taking a look for himself. “This thing’s a deep one, and Butterfly-bandages ain’t gonna cut it, if ya don’t want a scar.”

“Fuck me,” the vocalist groaned, rolling his eyes.

“No thanks, man,” he chuckled, letting his hair fall back down. “I think it’s pretty obvious that you’re not my type.”

“I didn’t mean that literally, asshat!” he laughed. “But a trip to the ER’s definitely _not_ what I’d planned for today.”

“I don’t think any of us wake up and say, _Hmm_ – _a trip to the ER sounds like a fun field trip,”_ the older bassist chuckled.

“C’mon, and we’ll take ya to get that settled,” Belle told him. “Duff’s been able to handle all four kids at once before, so I don’t see why he can’t now.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to, sweetheart,” said younger bassist informed them with a chuckle of his own. “And Zep’s always pretty good about helping us hold down the fort when we need it.”

Nodding since he definitely didn’t want a scar and knew it’d prolly be a good idea to have someone else drive him, Bret agreed to going to the ER. Aside from not wanting a scar or for worseta happen to him, if his diabetes started acting up, he wanted to find out who those idiots were so he could press charges. It wasn’t like he’d provoked them since he hadn’t even realized they’d followed him here, and they’d no reason to practically attack him outside his best friend’s front door.

The middle-aged woman headed to the main master suite to gather her and her older husband’s essentials while said older husband was helping him out to her truck. Bobby knew damn good and well his best friend didn’t truly need the help, but he still stayed within arm’s reach, just in case he seemed to get dizzy. He coulda very well knocked his head against the Stone surround of the front door and just not be showing any signs of even a mild head injury yet. Nothing’d stick in his craw worse than his friend getting hurt, if there was anything he could do to prevent such a thing from happening. Besides, just the fact that he’d gotten attacked on his property–even if he owned it jointly just like the bar–already wasn’t sitting with him very well.

At Mercy Gilbert Medical Center about seven miles away, the couple filled in the nurses as well as they could. Still pretty coherent, the vocalist was more than a bit ornery like he always was when in pain, but not like he’d a head injury that was causing him to be combative. Naturally, the staff wanted to call the cops since he’d obviously been assaulted, and he was in complete agreement since he already wanted to press charges.

It wasn’t much of a surprise that the responding officers started to try arresting Bobby when they first arrived, which earned them an assault threat of their own, if they didn’t remove their hands from his person. Bret was quick to come to his rescue by snapping at said officers that while they’d scrapped with one another in the Past, he wasn’t the one who’d given him his current injuries. If anything, he’d saved him from what woulda no doubt been worse than he’d gotten by answering his door and breaking up the shenanigans going on right outside his front door when he did.

“So, it _wasn’t_ Mr. Kuykendall that attackedja?” the cop now at his bedside asked. He was careful to stand far enough back that the attending’d Space to work while stitching up his wounds.

“Fuck no, it wasn’t Bobby,” he snapped. “We’re old friends, we’ve traded blows–yada, yada, yada. But ever since we crossed Paths again a couple months ago, we’ve hung out like we used to, booze or no.”

“Can ya elaborate on _used to,_ Mr. Sychak?” he asked, cocking a brow curiously.

“Let’s just say that we’re old friends, as well as former coworkers, as it were,” the vocalist answered. “And that’s all either of us’re saying about it in such a wide open Space.”

“We’ll be more than glad to bear all–but not here,” Bobby added, having finally been allowed to Return to his best friend’s side. “We’re already being hounded enough, and we don’t want or need to make it any worse.”

The cop wasn’t too sure what to make of that, but since both men seemed to be compliant enough, he nodded as he decided to just work with what he currently had.

“But Bobby wasn’t the one to attack me–it was the damn paparazzi I didn’t realize followed me to his house,” Bret continued. “Hell, if he did anything, it was save me from even worse when they pounced outside his front door.”

“Let’s just say he interrupted a half-joking conversation with my wife by not only ringing the doorbell, but damn near trying to break the glass in an attempt to get away from the bastards,” the bassist dead-panned.

Nodding, he continued taking notes before stepping back to observe as the blonde got his forehead stitched back together. As he watched the pair, he couldn’t detect the slightest hint of animosity between the pair, nor between said blonde and the woman who eventually joined them. They didn’t seem like they were the closest of friends–maybe ’cuz they’d been outta touch for a while, as previously implied–but not like they were mortal enemies Intent on killing each other or anything.

Before he was released, the attending physician wanted to double-check Bret’s blood sugar and monitor him for a bit. If he’d hit his head even gently–which was the most likely cause of the gash he’d just stitched up–he didn’t wanna release him, only for him to have to be brought back with a worse brain injury. Not only that, but he knew that if his sugar dropped too much, it could make him seem like he’d a head injury when he really didn’t, ’cuz a lotta the symptoms were similar, if not identical. The vocalist knew he was just covering his bases, even though the headache he now had was making him even more ornery and just wanna head out without being formally discharged.

It wasn’t long before the attending deemed him fit to Return home and got his discharge paperwork together for him. He warned him to make sure he kept an eye on any and all wounds, but especially the one now sporting stitches since his diabetes’d hinder his ability to Heal. The vocalist assured him that he already knew the drill since he’d to deal with this since childhood and thanked him for his service before heading out.

At Bobby’s house, the cops settled in the living room with the trio mostly heavily-involved with the current case. Duff kept the kids down in the basement with him after they assured themselves that everyone was all right, that way they could get the interview done quicker and in Peace. No doubt they just wanted to get this over with, if only so the blonde could catch a nap and sleep off his headache before actually Returning home to a young child and screaming toddler. They didn’t wanna begrudge him that, but they knew he wanted to make that Return and reassure his family sooner rather than later.


	21. Twenty

Word quickly got out that the Dall-McKagan family was crazier than a skulk of rabid Foxes following the unprovoked attack on Bret. It started the very afternoon following that attack, when Bobby headed outside to check the mail with his pistol holstered on his hip. The small crowd of paparazzi that’d been camped outside his fence were quick to take off like he’d actually shot one of them once they saw that he was armed, which just made him shrug and carry on with the business at hand.

About a week after that, Duff’d headed outside the front gate almost directly in front of the front door for the same purpose. The pack of so-called wolves waiting for him apparently decided to get a lil ballsier, ’cuz a mere pistol holstered on his hip didn’t scare them off. He’d been forced to go outside to check the mail the following Day with his pistol holstered on one hip, a wicked-looking dagger holstered on the other.

From there, it only got worse when Belle’d gone to check the mail ’cuz both husbands’d already headed to Paradise City to prepare for opening. Once she’d been accosted and it’d taken some serious fighting–even Zep having to jump into help get them off her–she refused to leave the house without her pistol on one hip, a literal Sword on the other, _and_ a holstered dagger shoved into her back pocket. The sad part was that it only got worse from there, and the family’s optionsta protect themselves were already pretty limited. None of them were quite sure what they were gonna do without breaking any laws, but how much they cared about such shit quickly went out the window.

A call from the local high school one Morn was all it took to have all three parents riled up enough to want heads on stakes in their front yard. Poor Zep’d been accosted by one of the so-called reporters that’d been hanging around the house, and he’d felt he was left with no choice but to take a spare pistol of his mom’s to school with him. He’d left it holstered in his bookbag while in gym class, but one of the coaches’d gotten the bright idea to do a locker search in the middle of class. Why the bastard had even open the teenage boy’s bookbag without probable cause, they didn’t know–and they didn’t particularly care.

“Ya _do_ know the three of ya could be arrested for this, right?” the principal was asking as all the parents and the teenager in question sat in his office.

“On what grounds?” Belle snapped. “’Cuz if Arizona laws’ve been rewritten all of a sudden, then please, call your SRO up here to Enlighten me _and_ my husbands of such a thing.”

That seemed to take the guy by surprise.

“Unless such laws’ve been rewritten and I wasn’t informed, I know quite well that you’ve to be eighteen to open-carry or twenty-one to conceal in the State of Arizona,” she told him.

Bobby and Duff merely sat back and let their shared wife handle this part, if only ’cuz her memory was better when it came to the particulars.

“In fact, this is exactly what State law currently says unless under the aforementioned circumstance,” the middle-aged woman continued as she pulled out her phone. _“On foot, any adult person who ain’t a_ prohibited possessor _may openly carry a loaded firearm visible to others. Generally, a person must be at least eighteen Years of age to possess or openly carry a firearm.”_

Now the principal was starting to look a bit unnerved, but she didn’t give him a chanceta cut her off.

_“However, this_ does not _apply to juveniles within a private residence, emancipated juveniles, juveniles accompanied by a parent, grandparent or guardian, or a certified hunter safety instructor or certified firearms safety instructor acting with the consent of the juvenile’s parent or guardian, juveniles on private property owned or leased by the juvenile or the juvenile’s parent, grandparent, or guardian, and juveniles fourteen Years of age and up engaged in any of the following activities: lawful hunting or shooting events or marksmanship practice at established ranges or other areas where the discharge of a firearm ain’t prohibited, lawful transportation of an unloaded firearm for lawful hunting, lawful transportation of an unloaded firearm between the hours of 0500 and 2200 for shooting events or marksmanship practice at established ranges or other areas where the discharge of a firearm is not prohibited, and activities that require a firearm related to the production of crops, livestock, poultry, livestock products, poultry products, or ratites or in the production or storage of agricultural commodities.”_

Even Zep was smart enough to keep his mouth shut, knowing he was already in enough trouble as it was and that once she got on a roll, his mother wouldn’t shut up for shit–especially if she was right about something.

_“The law doesn’t expressly require openly carried weapons to be in a holster, case or scabbard_ – _however, the open carrying of weapons not in a holster, case or scabbard while on foot in a populated area could be construed as reckless display or, if others feel threatened by such, even assault with a deadly weapon,”_ she continued.

_“In a vehicle, any adult person who ain’t a prohibited possessor may openly carry a loaded firearm in a vehicle, whether in a holster, case, compartment, or in plain view. Persons under twenty-one may openly carry a loaded or unloaded firearm in a vehicle only if it’s in plain view, i.e. discernible from the ordinary observation of a person located outside and within the immediate vicinity of the vehicle.”_ The middle-aged woman gently grabbed her son’s shoulder as the man before her finally took a deep breath.

“Well, with all due Respect, ma’am, your son’s none of those things,” he told her.

“Ah, but you’re wrong,” Belle retorted. “Zep’ll be sixteen in December, so he technically _can_ carry a firearm while with me, his dad, or Duff under any of the aforementioned circumstances. Now, on school premises–regardless of whether it’s open or concealed–he damn well knows better than that, so I assume he’s a damn good reason for not only breaking household rules, but State laws on top of it.”

The teenager couldn’t help flushing, but didn’t drop the hardened look on his face, either. “I’d like to think getting jumped by a bunch of damned paparazzi on campus and not a single fuckin’ faculty member helping me when I screamed for them’s a good enough reason.”

Both bassists’ eyes widened when he said that, but they chose not to say anything as they turned their attention to the principal, their tempers both Beginning to simmer.

“To _my_ way of thinking, that’s a damn good reason,” his mother told him. “But we’ll get that shit straightened out at home–if I don’t incur myself a murder charge by beating your fuckin’ ass for this, son.”

The principal–one Jamie de Felice–looked shocked when she said that, which earned him a hard look of his own from her. Belle made no bones about having raised all of her kids thus far under the strictest gun safety instruction, and that even went for other weapons she knew how to use. Even their respective fathers hadn’t tried to stop her from teaching them that shit–which included any laws for or against using such weapons–if only ’cuz of their former careers. If he didn’t know anything else, their oldest knew how to handle a firearm without hurting anyone he didn’t mean to, as well as where he could and couldn’t legally handle one, whether it was with or without adult supervision.

With that being said, she made it quite clear that–provided he and all three adults managed to stay outta jail for this–he’d face some damned serious consequences at home. More than likely, she wouldn’t just take away certain privileges–even his bedroom door, if she felt the need–but she wasn’t quite decided on any given punishment. Then again, she could always make him clean the grout lines with toothpicks, considering being on his knees like that’d be painful enough, instead of beating the tar outta him like she wanted to.

Having sat in on this particular _meeting,_ if it could be called that, the school’s SRO–Deputy Michael Wilcox–could tell none of the adults’d even realized Zep came to school packing today. That didn’t mean he thought the boy _didn’t_ deserve some kinda punishment–he clearly knew right from wrong and had decided to do wrong, anywhore. But he didn’t think the kid or his parents deserved to be arrested for it, especially considering he’d already run their information and didn’t find so much as a parking ticket on any of their records. Not only that, but he’d bigger Fish to fry when it came to figuring out how to protect him and the rest of the students now.

Ready to knock her son’s head off with a baseball bat once Mr. de Felice decided he needed a ten-Day outta-school suspension as punishment, Belle snatched up his bookbag for him. Giving him one of the most evil looks she’d given any of her kids, she herded him out to her truck without a single word. Bobby and Duff were both quick to follow her, not even bothering to shake anyone’s hands since they were beyond simmering.

“I’ma say this right fuckin’ now,” she said as she cranked the truck a couple minutes later. “Zeppelin Bentley Kuykendall, you’re fuckin’ lucky I don’t wanna pull Time in the cross-bar hotel for taking ya outta this World a helluva lot more easily than I broughtcha into it!”

Both bassists–who’d managed to squeeze themselves into the back seat–were hard-pressed to bite back a snicker at her use of the boy’s full name, which made his eyes widen where he rode shotgun.

“And if it weren’t for the fact that I don’t blame ya for wanting to protect yourself when those who _shoulda_ been protecting ya _wouldn’t and didn’t,_ I’d be grounding your ass for a helluva lot longer than a month!” the middle-aged woman continued.

Zep seemed to realize that he was gonna get worse, if he dared try to argue that point, and wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Your bedroom door’s mine, and you’re also doing _all_ your siblings’ chores on top of your own when you’re not working on any schoolwork for the next ten Days, too,” Belle concluded as she took off for home.

“Don’t think we’re not gonna enforce that, either, son,” the older bassist spoke up from the back seat. “Hell, you’re lucky I’m not adding scrubbing Paradise City from floor to ceiling to your list of punishments on top of it all.”

“I thought about it, love, but figured he’ll have enough to do around the house,” she chuckled.

“Point being’s that you’ve known better than this since ya were younger than Levi,” Bobby told him. “Andja shoulda told one or all three of us right after it happened so we could do something about it.”

“That’s a parent’s job, after all–to raise and protect their babies, even if it means laying down their own Lives for them,” the younger bassist agreed. “But how’re we supposed to protectcha when we dunno what the fuck’s going on?”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, slouching down in his seat. “This whole situation ever since those bastards followed Uncle Bret’s just gotten way outta hand.”

None of the adults could deny that he’d a point, even as they fell Silent for the remainder of their drive back home. Shit never woulda gotten to this point, if those damned paparazzi hadn’t followed the blonde that Day–or if they’d simply listened when they tried to scare them off their own private property. Course, why the hell they’d thought it was okay to chase down a teenager–and while he was at school, at that–for answers the adults didn’t wanna give, none of them could fathom.

Back at the house, Belle took everything her older son could use for entertainment, if it wasn’t a musical instrument. Restrictions were put on his laptop since he’d likely need that to do at least part of his schoolwork, while his phone got hidden so well, even his dads couldn’t find it. While he got started on the homework he’d gotten from his first two classes that Day, she headed out to the garage so she could make good on her word.

It wasn’t long before the middle-aged woman’d rounded up the tools she’d need and gotten his bedroom door off the hinges, Bobby having stepped in to help her since he was taller. The only reason they’d left the only other door besides his closet door up was for privacy’s sake since it led into the bathroom he shared with his baby brother. If not for wanting him to have his privacy while in there, they’d have taken that door and hidden it alongside his bedroom door, too. But none of them–not even Duff–was cruel enough to make him take a shower or take care of bodily functions with an audience since they damn well wouldn’t do such things, themselves.

With that task completed, the older bassist gave his wife a quick kiss before heading into the office, his younger counterpart heading off to their bar to get ready for opening that Night. He told him that he’d catch up with him in a lil bit, but he really needed to get in touch with Bret before it got too late. Regardless of whether they wanted to or not, they were gonna have to get the entirety of Poison together to release _some_ kinda public statement. It didn’t matter whether he was gonna rejoin them, or was simply gonna think it over–something _had_ to be said to put these wolvesta rest before something even worse happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just to make it abundantly clear... I'm going by what I'm _assuming_ is _current_ Arizona State laws on firearms and how one can carry them. We're gonna assume that was more or less true back in 2006, 'cuz chances are, if one doesn't find the exact answer they seek in the first three Google search results, they're not gonna. I've better thingsta do with myself and my Time besides giving myself a migraine trying to find an answer that I'm not gonna find, so I wanted to let everyone know that what I used in this chapter _may not_ be entirely true, as per 2006.  
> ~Firefly


	22. Twenty-One

Luckily for all involved, Bobby was able to get in touch with the entirety of his former band, who’d just gotten back home from finishing out their Summer tour. They were all well aware of the rumors and speculation regarding his Return to the band after almost thirteen Years that were floating around, so they weren’t the least bit surprised by his call. If they were surprised by anything, it was that he was actually willing to sit down with them and give an interview–although it _wasn’t_ ’cuz he was Returning to the fold.

It took a week to actually get the interview set up, but that was fine by all of them–at least it gave the guys Time to adjust to being off the road a bit. Granted, that meant that Bret and Bobby were gonna have to fly out to Los Angeles since the former wasn’t feeling up to driving and the latter simply didn’t wanna. Then again, taking a flight to merely the next State over was the least of their problems, if they were honest with themselves.

Upon arriving at LAX, the pair weren’t surprised to see Poison’s long-Time manager, Howie, waiting for them near baggage claim. The older bassist wasn’t sure how long he’d End up staying in California, so he’d decided to come prepared to stay at least a week. He didn’t actually Intend to stay that long–he still had his Life back home in Arizona to think of, after all–but he knew that sometimes, not everything went according to plan. For all he knew, a Storm could blow in that made flying back home too dangerous, and if he wouldn’t drive out here in the first place, he wasn’t driving back.

“Glad to see ya made it in one piece,” Howie chuckled. “Or maybe I should be saying two since you’re not literally joined at the hip.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely true,” the lone blonde laughed, moving to give him a hug.

“Long Time, no see–or talk–man,” Bobby said, moving to take his turn once they’d parted.

“Ya got that right,” his former manager agreed. “So, why on Earth’re ya wanting to sit down and give an interview with these guys after all this Time?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the recent rumors of us getting back together–as in, _Look What the Cat Dragged In_ lineup, back together,” he clarified.

“I definitely have, and honestly, I haven’t believed a word of it,” he admitted.

“Well, long story short–turns out, the guys’ favorite haunt when they’re in Arizona happensta be _my_ bar,” the older bassist chuckled. “Well, not entirely mine since I co-own it with my wife and her second husband, but that’s beside the point.”

“I’ll ask about that some other Time,” Howie chuckled.

“I stupidly let them talk me into helping fill the gaps in sets played by a Poison cover band that usually plays at Paradise City once a month, maybe more,” he continued. “One thing led to another, and _boom!_ –here we are, fending off the wolves before my son gets me arrested or something.”

“Wait, what?” Even Bret looked surprised at hearing that.

“Long story short on that one–Zep got jumped at school by a pack of the fuckers, then decided taking one of Belle’s spare pistolsta school for protection was a good idea,” Bobby dead-panned. “If that SRO hadn’t realized none of us–I mean myself, Belle, _and_ Duff–hadn’t known he’d done that, I’d prolly be sitting in the county lock-up with those two, plotting his execution, right now.”

“Yeowch,” his former band mate hissed, looking at him through one eye as he winced. “Now I’m starting to see why you’re the one who decided to set this interview up, though.”

“Exactly,” Bobby said, making to climb into the Tahoe Howie’d come to get them in. “It’s not about whether I do or don’t ever wanna rejoin Poison–it’s about protecting my family. I mean, let’s say something like this were to happen again–next Time, somebody’ll be in jail at best, dead at worst.”

“And I think we can all–even the others–agree that that’s the _last_ thing any of us want,” the manager said as he fired up the truck.

Nodding as he buckled his seat belt, he made it quite clear that he definitely didn’t want such a thing to happen over something so stupid. Belle and Duff’d felt the same way, which’d been why they’d encouraged his getting in touch with his former band–including Richie–about doing this. They were still pissed that their oldest collective child had gotten himself into such trouble, but they were even more pissed at the reason why he’d made such a choice in the first place.

Arriving at their predetermined meeting point, the older bassist wasn’t disappointed to see the remains of his former band already waiting on them. Rikki and CC both moved to take their turns getting hugs right off the bat, although it seemed that the man who’d become his successor was a lil more hesitant. Then again, unless he was remembering wrong, he hadn’t exactly been a touchy-feely sorta guy during the recording and accompanying tour of that lone album they worked on together. If that was the case, he couldn’t exactly blame him for keeping his distance now, which he made up for by at least smiling at them.

Inside the building that housed one of the most well-known rock magazines of all Time, the band got themselves checked in as visitors and were directed to the room the interview’d be conducted in. Naturally, Howie stayed with them, as was typical of any band manager, as they headed into said room to settle wherever seats were available while they waited.

Bobby took a deep breath to steady his nerves as they waited on the idiots from hair and makeup, whom he refused to let touch him. He’d long since considered his Days of that shit done and over with, and he didn’t particularly care if he looked like shit on camera. After all, it wasn’t like he ever Intended to do such a thing again–and besides, his wife’d rubbed off a lil too much in some ways, her Love for _au Natural_ being one of them. To him, it was better to just show his face as it was and not give a damn about whether he looked anemic or something. Hell, letting the World speculate about his Health was better than having reporters going so far as to chase down his kids while they were at school.

“Hey there, everyone!” their host, editor Jack McDaniel, said once they actually started the interview about an hour later. “Today, I’m here with the _Glam, Slam, Kings of Noise,_ Poison–including former bassist, Bobby Dall!”

All five guys waved to the camera that was trained on them, which made him laugh.

“They’ve agreed to sit down and give us an exclusive interview, which includes the scoop on some rumors that’ve been floating around online lately,” he continued. “So, who wantsta start, guys?”

“Well, lemme just say that it’s a pleasure being here with ya today, Jack,” Bret chuckled as he took charge, which was typical of front men the World over.

“Yeah, it definitely is,” the others chorused, all of them nodding.

“I think my biggest question today–are any of those rumors even remotely true?” he asked, apparently deciding to cut to the chase.

“Not at all,” Richie answered. “We haven’t even talked about such a thing.”

“Well, not if ya don’t count telling Bobby we _hoped_ the Day’d come that he’d wanna make a comeback,” the drummer laughed. “But that’s not the same as him _actually_ rejoining the band.”

“Got that right,” said former bassist agreed, his tone a bit dry.

“In that case, I gotta ask–what on Earth even sparked the rumors in the first place?” Jack asked.

“Long story short, the guys’ favorite haunt when they head to Bret’s place in Arizona’s actually owned by myself, my wife, and her second husband,” he answered. “No, I ain’t clarifying shit about that lil Love triangle, so don’t ask.”

“Can’t argue with that,” the editor laughed.

Bobby was quick to run through how the mother of one of their kids’ friends’d sent home a note with them, asking if they could come over to their place one afternoon in the recent Past. Having been a father in his own right for so long, he wasn’t about to say no when he realized the kids in question were both in the single-digits, although he wouldn’t specify how young for his friend’s sake. The thing none of his family’d been expecting wasta find out they were the vocalist’s kids, which’d been quite the surpriseta all of the adults within his household.

“Talk about a blast from the Past, huh?” Jack chuckled.

“In a way,” he agreed. “I definitely wasn’t expecting my former band to walk into my bar with my wife that Eve, either.”

“We’ve been going to Paradise City ever since its grand opening a lil over two Years ago, and we never knew who owned the place,” Rikki said.

“Damn well _shoulda,_ considering the name of it, though,” their lead guitarist laughed. “I mean, c’mon–jointly owned and operated by our former bassist and that of Guns n’ Roses? It was a dead giveaway to anyone paying attention.”

“So, none of ya knew till recently that Bobby owned your favorite haunt? Gotta say, that’s quite the coincidence,” he chuckled. “But I’m still scratching my head on how coming to _that_ realization sparked rumors of him Returning to the band.”

“’Cuz I stupidly let ’em talk me into hitting the stage with ’em between the sets of the Poison cover band that plays at Paradise City pretty often,” said bassist laughed. “Even though I told the crowd that wasn’t gonna become a common occurrence, nor was it supposed to mean anything else beyond that Night.”

“Damn, really?” the editor asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Well, I got sick of certain shit going on in the band a long Time ago,” Bobby explained. “That was why I quit when the _Native Tongue_ tour abruptly Ended in November of 1993.”

“And if those things aren’t a factor anymore?” he asked, cocking a brow at him curiously.

“Then I’ll be honest and say I’d still need Time to think about it,” the older bassist admitted. “I’ve been an entrepreneur and half-stay-at-home-dad for a long Time, and I kinda like it that way.”

“Aw, nuts,” Jack chuckled, snapping his fingers.

“Hey, that’s not to say I don’t still get that itch–’cuz I’d be lying, if I said that,” he told him, unable to help a grin. “But my oldest just started high school, and my youngest’s not even ten–I don’t think it’s fair to them for me to take off Globe-trotting for shits and giggles, nor to me to have to miss out on shitcha only get one chance at.”

Not even his former band mates could really deny that he’d a point, although it was pretty obvious that Rikki and CC didn’t quite get what he meant. Then again, it wasn’t like they were fathers in their own rights–at least, as far as any of them knew–so that was kinda to be expected. After all, Bret and Richie were the ones who’d at least a single child and could connect with him to a certain extent on that front.

Bobby made it abundantly clear that maybe the Day’d come when he decided to make a comeback with his former band, maybe it wouldn’t. Now simply wasn’t the Time for such a thing, and he wasn’t gonna try to force something that wasn’t meant to be. The younger man who’d once replaced CC and wound up becoming his own replacement was clearly able to hold his own with them, and he wasn’t gonna take that Crown away from him, so to speak. If he wanted to give it up, that was his decision, but he wasn’t gonna take it by force just ’cuz it’d once been his own.

It wasn’t long before they wrapped up the interview, the cameras finally stopping as their director called a wrap to the filming. The older bassist couldn’t have been more grateful, if only ’cuz he needed to run off for a potty break, but didn’t dare till the Sound pack came off. He didn’t like his family listening in on what he did in the bathroom when he was at home, and he damn well didn’t want his former band and this crew being able to ’cuz of a _technical difficulty,_ as it were.

“Well, Bobby–I’m not gonna lie and say it’s not a shame that you’re not rejoining Poison,” Jack said after they’d all taken a quick trip to the bathroom.

“I know, I know,” he chuckled. “The World’s pretty much been dying for such an announcement ever since we released the statement about me quitting back in ’93.”

“Yeah, gotta say– _that_ was definitely a shock to the system,” the editor laughed.

“The only reason I did that–I’d been sober for over five Years, and it didn’t seem like the rest of the guys’d any Intentions of joining me there,” Bobby admitted, making the blondes look sheepish. “I put up with as much as I could stand without losing my mind before I called it quits. Bret making a false accusation–that was the last straw for me, or I was gonna End up in prison for killing him or someone else.”

“It was just better he leave while he’d the chance,” Richie spoke up. “And do I regret taking over his position in the band? Not really, ’cuz it’s easier to come up with bass riffs that fit the others’ styles than it is to come up with guitar riffs that fit.”

“I think he knows after the last couple months that if I really wanted my old spot back, I’d fight tooth and nail till I got it,” the older bassist agreed with a grin. “But he’s done me Justice–and proud–in the last thirteen Years, and I don’t see why that should Change when I’ve other Responsibilities that come first.”

“I guess I’m surprised thatcha decided to open up a bar, of all things, after getting sober,” he said, unable to help a grin of his own.

“Eh, I’d wanted to, even before C was fired,” Bobby told them. “But I never had the Time, nor education and partnersta even think about trying it.”

“So, how _did_ that End up happening?” the editor asked.

“GN’R’s former bassist, Duff McKagan, decided he wanted to go to school for a business degree,” he answered. “It just snowballed from there when we talked our shared wife into taking a stab at college for herself.”

“They’re not just a Love triangle and business partners, after all,” Rikki snickered.

“Yeah, our degrees all compliment each other as much as we do, ourselves,” the older bassist laughed. “But we did that Intentionally so we could cover as many parts of the business on our own as we could. Not ’cuz we didn’t wanna spend the money to bring in someone elseta do it–we could care less about that–but so we could work together without anyone feeling left out or anything stupid like that.”

Joining his laughter for a few moments, Jack told him that he was glad to hear he was happy, even if he wasn’t a part of Poison and hadn’t been for a long Time. And while he’d absolutely no Intentions of actually adding it to the article that got printed and published online, he couldn’t help asking exactly what’d sparked them to do this particular interview. He got the feeling that there was more to it than just wanting to quell any rumors floating around, but he understood, if they didn’t wanna talk about it. Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask, ’cuz the worst they could possibly tell him was just that–that they didn’t wanna talk about it, and they’d no comment on the matter.

After giving it a few moments’ Thought, Bobby took a deep breath that he let out in a heavy sigh, his fingers raking through his hair–which his wife’d finally talked him into growing out again. Part of him didn’t wanna get into the nitty-gritty of it, but at the same Time, he figured the guy could be trusted to keep his word. If not, he’d just file a lawsuit the guy–not to mention this particular magazine–would never forget on the grounds of his privacy being breached.

“To be honest, it’s ’cuz I’m sick of reporters hanging around my house,” he said. “But the final straw–jumping my son at school and making him feel like he needed to take a gun with him for his own safety.”

“What the–are ya fuckin’ _shitting me?”_ The editor looked downright floored and absolutely disgusted.

“I Wish I was, man,” Bobby answered, shaking his head. “We got called into the principal’s office last week ’cuz a random locker search’d been done while he was in gym class, and the coach found one of my wife’s spare pistols in his bookbag.”

“Fuckin’-A, man.” Even Rikki looked shocked, as well as Richie and CC.

“Naturally, we all wanted to know why he did it,” the older bassist continued. “I mean, the boy grew up around firearms in Tennessee, so he knows how to use one–but he also knows he’s not supposed to have it without one of us, adults supervising, _especially_ somewhere like at school.”

“So, what exactly happened–or do ya even know?” CC asked.

“Apparently, one of the vultures that started hanging around after a group of ’em followed Bret to the house decided to follow Zep to school,” Bobby answered. “They got the bright idea that jumping a minor ’cuz I wouldn’t talk was okay, and no one came to his aid when he started screaming.”

“Which was when he decided he needed a gun, even at school,” the drummer dead-panned.

“Okay, I can kinda get it, but at the same Time, I wanna give that boy a good slap upside the head,” his successor said, rolling his eyes.

“Now imagine how Belle, Duff, and I feel,” he chuckled. “Hell, Belle even said she’d like to take a baseball bat to his head like a golf club or something.”

“I should hope she hasn’t actually done such a thing,” Bret said.

“Nah, worst we’ve done is take his bedroom door off the hinges,” the older bassist laughed. “And we’re not taking his bathroom door, whether it’s a _Jack-and-Jill_ he shares with his lil brother or not, ’cuz that’s just going _too_ far.”

The editor promised not to print that part, nor post it online as he shook all their hands, knowing damn good and well that wasn’t the kinda thing _anyone_ wanted getting out about their family. Bobby thanked him and told him that he appreciated it, ’cuz he really didn’t wanna have to sue him and his employer for all they were worth over something like that.

With their more or less impromptu interview wrapped up, the entirety of Poison decided to head out so they could grab lunch. After all, Bret was gonna have to eat soon due to his diabetes, whether he liked it or not, and the rest of them couldn’t deny starting to get hungry, too. Not only that, but they just wanted to get the hell outta there, the older bassist feeling the most like that since he wasn’t used to this kinda thing anymore. Besides, he also wasn’t used to running on Pacific Time, even though going back an hour wasn’t as bad as going back three like he’d done when living on the closer to the East Coast than not.

It was while they were enjoying lunch at a place Rikki highly recommended that they finally talked about and agreed on lodging for at least a Day. Since the vocalist’d never really gotten along with CC–although he’d be the first to admit that they got along better now than they ever had–he choseta crash with their drummer. He saw no reason to possibly get any fights started, despite not planning on staying in California any longer than absolutely necessary.

Bobby didn’t particularly care one way or the other, ’cuz he’d pretty much gotten along with all his former band mates like he got along with his blood brother, Butch. Still, he choseta crash with Richie, if only ’cuz he’d always been the absolute quietest member of the band, and he could use some Peace and quiet right about now. He wouldn’t deny loving his Life as it currently was and had been for Years, but he didn’t get a whole lotta that at home. Then again, that wasta be expected with four kids running around, a loud-mouthed wife, and another musician all living under one roof. None of the guys could blame him for taking that chance while he had it, and they could easily say this felt like the Beginning of at least a new friendship, if nothing else.


	23. Twenty-Two

“Dad?”

Glancing up from where he’d been relaxing at the edge of the pool, now that he was back home in Arizona, Bobby wasn’t surprised to see his son hovering a few feet away. The voice he’d heard was too deep to’ve been even Duff’s, let alone Levi’s, and the younger boy always called him _Daddy Bobby_ to differentiate since he wasn’t actually his son. Patting the concrete beside him, he wondered what on Earth his son wanted since it was easily pushing two in the Morn, and he’d have normally been dead to the World hours ago.

“What’s up, son?” he asked once he was settled next to him, both their legs dangling in the deep End.

“I just wanted to apologize for making ya feel like ya _had_ to give that interview this week,” Zep answered with a sigh, kicking his feet slightly.

“Aw, son–look at me,” the older bassist said as he turned to face him.

Clearly nervous, he couldn’t help biting his lip as he looked up at him since he’d been looking down at his lap.

“You’ve never made me feel like I _had_ to do anything, save for one thing,” Bobby told him.

“And what’s that?” the teenage boy asked, unsure if he actually wanted to hear the answer or not.

“Be a better man and father than my own dad ever wasta me, your Uncle Butch, and your Aunt Patty,” he answered, unable to help a tender smile as he reached over to tuck his hair behind his ear.

“Wait a minute–what?” Zep’s eyes widened in surprise.

Laughing softly, the older bassist explained that the reason he didn’t have a grampa from his side of the family was ’cuz his own dad had abandoned his family when he was just a baby. His mother swore it’d happened before he was actually born, his grandmother swearing it’d been when he was just a month or two old. Either way, he’d never known what his dad looked like, never mind what kinda man he was–his mother’d gotten rid of every picture she’d ever had of the man after he left. But one thing was for sure–he looked more like his beloved mama than the bastard who’d sired him, as did his older siblings.

“That’s one of the ways Mom and I connected so well, and still get each other now,” Bobby told him. “She was abandoned by _her_ dad either before she was born, or when she was a newborn–depends on whose story ya believe.”

“What about her mom, though?” his son asked curiously. “I mean, the only grama I’ve ever met was _your_ mom, if ya don’t count Duff’s.”

He paused in Thought for a few moments before even trying to answer him. “Guess me telling ya depends on how open your mind is, son.”

Zep couldn’t help looking downright confused. “I mean, I’d like to _think_ I’m pretty open-minded–Mom’s a Witch and hasn’t ever made any bones about it, after all.”

“What wouldja say, if I toldja that Time Travel ain’t just something Hollywood cooked up?” the older bassist asked.

_“Uhhhh,_ not too sure I believe that one,” he admitted. “Then again, I don’t think anyone’s ever met a being who’s actually done it.”

“This entire family has,” Bobby chuckled. “It started when Duff and I went to bed in two separate places, then woke up in the _same_ place–and thirty Years into the Future, at that.”

The teenage boy’s jaw dropped in shock, and he couldn’t help laughing at the look on his face, which was easily visible in the Light of the Full Moon. Once he’d Calmed down enough to actually talk, he decided it was best to start at the very Beginning and work his way up to the here-and-now. At least then, the story’d make more sense than if he just gave him bits and pieces without actually explaining anything to him.

“So, Mom’s _really_ only supposed to be as old as Gypsi is?” Zep asked, still flabbergasted.

“Well, not quite,” he answered. “She _really was_ born in October, even though it was originally in 1993.”

“How on Earth’d she manage to get shit like her license, then?” the teenage boy asked, sounding confused.

“Damn good fake ID, son,” Bobby laughed. “When it comesta her social security number, though, we think the Morrígan’d a hand in that since it’s never been flagged or anything.”

“I guess what I wanna know now–why’d she chooseta go back to 1988 with y’all?” His brow furrowed in Thought. “I mean, I get that Love can make people do some weird shit, but…”

“’Cuz none of y’all kids’d exist, if I hadn’t.”

Turning to look over their shoulders, they somehow weren’t surprised to see Belle and Duff both joining them.

“Wait, what’s _that_ supposed to mean?” the teenage boy asked.

“Well, not only did I _not_ want kids when I met your dads, I didn’t really have a reason to wanna keep living,” Belle explained. “My Life was going absolutely nowhere fast, my pappaw–who was more like my daddy growing up–was dead, and the rest of my family on both sides’d abandoned me for one reason or another.”

By this Time, she was settled on her older husband’s other side, her younger husband effectively completing the human sammich they made. She took a deep breath as she laced her fingers with those of both bassists, who gently squeezed her hands as much as she squeezed theirs. Talking about her Past’d never been one of her strong suits, and she didn’t do it very often for a reason–which was that it was simply too painful. If there was one thing about Belle Dall-McKagan that was a surpriseta those who didn’t know her well, it was just how much she truly cared. To be quite honest, she often cared too much–to the point that she only wound up getting hurt somehow by someone in the End.

“My dad abandoned me when I was either still in utero, or as a very young infant,” she told him. “Depends on whose story ya believe–and by that, I mean my mother’s, or my mammaw’s. Either way, the fact remains that I wouldn’t know what he looked like, if it weren’t for a handful of pictures floating around when I was a kid, and I damn well didn’t know the man he was or wasn’t at heart.”

“That’s pretty much what Dad told me right before you and Duff came out,” Zep said, nodding.

“Well, as if that wasn’t bad enough, my mother might as well’ve abandoned me, too,” the middle-aged woman continued. “She wasn’t there for me mentally and Emotionally growing up–hell, I only told her I’d started my first period ’cuz I thought she’d beat my ass with a belt, if I didn’t.”

_“Day-um,”_ he said, unable to help a wince.

“It took me till about the Time I met your dadsta realize she’d been mentally, Emotionally, _and_ verbally abusive my entire Life,” Belle said, which was something she’d never even told her husbands.

“Wait, what?” Even Bobby’s jaw dropped at that particular revelation. “You’re shitting me, sweetheart.”

“I Wish I was,” she sighed, shaking her head. “But what the hell else do y’all call her telling me that I’d never amount to anything in Life?”

“Fuckin’ bitch,” Duff snarled. “I kinda Wish I’d killed her when I’d the chance.”

“Me, too,” his older counterpart agreed. “I mean, we heard a few of the fights y’all’d get into when y’all thought we were still asleep, but we never even realized it was _that_ bad.”

“Well, it was,” the middle-aged woman told them. “And the fact that my ex-stepdad was _physically_ abusive, although she’d say he wasn’t, didn’t help matters. Add in that she never believed me when I’d tell her about something he did or said behind her back, that she made me feel worthless and like I _really wouldn’t_ ever amount to anything, and yeah–it’s no Wonder I took any chanceta get outta there that I could.”

Zep didn’t think a thing about it being weird as he crawled into his dad’s lap so that even he could hug her, which brought a slight smile to her face.

“I didn’t want kids when I met these two lovably annoying goofballs ’cuz I was already more like my mother than I ever cared to admit,” Belle said, wrapping her arms around her older son. “I didn’t wanna take the chance of becoming even more like her by repeating her mistakes with my own kids, even though I wouldn’t have meant to.”

“I guess I can’t blame ya there, Mom,” the teenage boy admitted.

“Looking back at my family’s history, there was a pattern that started with at least my great-great-grandmother,” she revealed, catching both husbands’ attention in addition to his.

Belle told them that her great-grandmother–who’d died when she was only eleven–had been one of easily closeta twelve kids. Outta all those kids, they’d only one brother–which meant that, more than likely, he was a full-on _Mama’s boy_ and got the majority of her great-great-grandmother’s Love and attention. It prolly wasn’t ’cuz Flora’d even meant to be that way with her kids–it’d prolly just been a subconscious thing she’d done without even realizing it.

However, once she was a grown woman, wife, and mother in her own right, her great-grandmother Helen’d at least accidentally continued the cycle. She’d five kids, although only four survived to adulthood–and outta those five kids, she’d borne only a single daughter. But unlike her own mother, she hadn’t doted on her daughter ’cuz she was the only one–she’d apparently developed a preference for her boys.

By the Time that lone daughter–the now-middle-aged woman’s mammaw–was grown, she’d grown to resent and most likely even hate her mother. To hear that woman talk, Helen was nothing short of abusive in just about every sense of the word with the exception of being sexually abusive. One of her favorite storiesta tell was how she’d gotten whacked upside the head just for uttering the word _pregnant_ around the age of fourteen. Course, back when she was that age, the term most considered proper was _in the family way_ –but even still, it didn’t warrant raising a hand to one’s child like that.

“From there, according to Kat, my mammaw showed a clear preference for my uncle when _they_ were kids,” Belle told them. “And even though she’d never admit it, Kat’s favorite child was _my_ younger brother.”

“Never even knew you’d a younger brother, hon,” Duff chuckled.

“He’s seven Years younger than me,” she laughed. “Or rather, he _would_ be, if we were still in 2018 as per the way history’d gone without all the Time Travel.”

“So basically, you’re saying that your entire family was abusive–at least, on your mom’s side–andja were just trying to stop the cycle?” Zep asked curiously.

“Pretty much, but it’s also ’cuz I suspect there was some kinda mental illness somewhere in my family Tree,” the middle-aged woman answered, nodding. “I mean, my mammaw used to say she swore my great-grandmother was bipolar or something to act the way she did.”

“What about your dad’s side of the family?” he asked.

“All I ever knew about that side of the family was that my dad had really bad vision,” Belle answered. “I mean, wore Coke-bottle glasses in his early-twenties, bad.”

“Coke-bottle glasses?” the teenage boy asked, looking confused.

“She means glasses as thick as the old glass bottles that Coke and Pepsi used to come in, like the ones in my collection,” Duff chuckled.

“Jeez.” He couldn’t help a wince.

“That’s why I’d to start wearing reading glasses occasionally when I was just eighteen,” she chuckled. “Otherwise, I’d have prolly been far older since Kat was thirty-five before she ever needed any such thing.”

“Guess that explains why you’re blind as a Bat now,” Zep snickered.

“Oh, shut it, and be glad your own dad’s killer eyesight factors in since _he_ didn’t need reading glasses till he was _forty!”_ the middle-aged woman laughed.

None of them could help a laugh at that, although Bobby wore a bit of a smug grin, which got him gently elbowed by his shared wife.

“The point in all this, son, wasta make ya realize that we’ve never felt the need to do anything but be better than our own parents,” he told him.

“That even goes for me, ’cuz while my mom was practically stellar under the circumstances, my own dad coulda done a better job,” Duff admitted.

“Whaddaya mean?” Zep asked, his brow furrowed.

The younger bassist explained how he’d actually caught his dad in the act of cheating when he was a tender twelve Years old. If he were completely honest, he was pretty sure that was what’d caused his panic disorder, which still affected him all these Years later. Course, he’d be surprised, if such a thing _hadn’t_ happened, considering the pressure he’d been under to keep his mouth shut about what he’d seen. His dad abandoning the family for the other woman–who happened to be the mother of one of his childhood friends–certainly didn’t help matters.

“Was I terrified when we found out Mom was pregnant with you, then the rest of the kids?” he asked. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely. I mean, we never knew for sure whose baby was whose till all of ya were actually born–we could make an educated guess, but that was about it.”

“Making calculations and saying the likelihood of y’all being mine or his could only go so far, after all,” the older bassist agreed with a chuckle.

“It just happened to work out so Bobby became a daddy first, then me,” Duff said. “And it was an even dumber stroke of Luck that he’d his son, then his daughter, while I’d my daughter, then my son.”

“But we were all terrified to the very marrow of our bones, all the same.” Their shared wife couldn’t help a soft snicker. “We were terrified that we were gonna be as bad as our collective parents, maybe even worse than that, and wind up fuckin’ up royally with y’all.”

“So, we made a conscious decision to think back on our own childhoods and do the _opposite_ of what our own parents did,” Bobby said. “Granted, we’ve still had to do a few things the same way–like when we’ve actually busted your asses with our belts for the absolute worst of offenses.”

“But otherwise, I’d say we’ve managed not to become our parents too much,” the younger bassist chuckled. “And your dad’s right, kiddo–the only thing we’ve ever really felt like we _had_ to do was be better than our own parents, and just protect and love our babies.”

Belle couldn’t help tightening her arms where they were still wrapped around him as she said that it was something he wouldn’t quite get till he became a daddy in his own right, if he ever did. She even laughed as she swore up and down that her older husband hadn’t truly gotten it till she’d given Birth for the first Time and he’d held him in his arms. Once he’d held him for the first Time, though, it was like everything his mother’d ever told him about parenting’d suddenly clicked and he’d a Light bulb moment.

Duff was quick to agree with the middle-aged woman, saying that while he’d kinda, sorta gotten it when Zep was born, he hadn’t _truly_ gotten it till Gypsi was. It was only then that he’d his own Light bulb moment–especially when it came to realizing why daddies were so protective over their baby girls. Even Bobby hadn’t gotten that part entirely till his own daughter was born a few Years later, but now he did without a doubt.

All three parents agreed that there was no reason for him to feel guilty, whether it was over the older bassist feeling like he’d to give an interview he didn’t wanna or simply ’cuz he was born. They didn’t care that none of their collective kids were even remotely planned–they were still their flesh and blood, and they loved them all the same. If giving an interview to quell online rumors was what it took to protect said flesh and blood, then that was pretty easy. After all, while they’d gladly do it if it came right down to it, none of them wanted to actually have to lay down their Lives for any of the kids. That was how prolly every parent who actually loved their kids on the face of the Planet felt, though, no matter how old those kids got.

Zep couldn’t deny that he felt a lil better about it, even if he still felt a lil guilty since his dad hadn’t made that choice till after he’d stupidly taken a loaded gun to school. But looking back on it, he could at least say that he’d learned he was better off talking to even his half-dad about anything that was going on versus resorting to drastic measures like that. All three parents heaved sighs of relief at hearing that, Bobby helping his son up from the pool deck while his younger counterpart helped their shared wife up. Maybe now their Lives could start Returning to _some_ semblance of normal, considering who was involved and their Pasts.


	24. Twenty-Three

“So, how long did it take to convince Dad and Duff that they’d _really_ Time Traveled?”

Looking up from the random doodle she’d been working on that might become yet another T-shirt design for the bar, Belle saw her older son’d walked into the living room. She wasn’t nearly as pissed at him over what’d gotten him suspended for ten Days as the Day it’d happened, so she couldn’t help a chuckle as she closed her sketch book. Patting the couch next to where she was curled up with one hand, she laid said sketch book down on the end table next to her.

“Honestly, it didn’t take as long as you’d think it woulda,” she answered once he was settled next to her.

“Damn, really?” Zep’s eyes widened in surprise.

“First thing my mom did was turn the TV onto the news since they were doing their Noon broadcast,” the middle-aged woman laughed. “They couldn’t really deny what we were telling them since I’m pretty sure no news station’s gonna lie about what Year it is.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true enough,” he agreed with a chuckle of his own.

“After that, I played your dad’s riff from _Every Rose_ for them, showed them something Duff’s not slated to do for another few Years– _if_ he still does it at all, that is,” Belle continued. “Going by all the dates, they knew damn good and well that while it mighta been April, it definitely _wasn’t_ 1988 anymore.”

“So, what madeja decide to date _both_ of ’em?” the teenage boy asked curiously.

Unable to help a fond smile, nor playing with both handfasting sets she wore, she was more than glad to answer his question. There’d been plenty of qualities about Bobby and Duff both that–assuming they weren’t just figments of her Imagination–made her love both of them before she’d ever met them. However, she’d never thought that any of her wildest Dreams’d ever come true–and if they _did,_ she figured they’d have come true in a totally different way. If anything, she’d have expected to meet their fifty-something-Year-old Selves and form bonds with the two of them that way, not while they were in their twenties.

Naturally, waking up to realize she wasn’t in bed alone was more than a bit of a surprise, but realizing _who_ was in bed with her was an even bigger one. The middle-aged woman couldn’t help a laugh at how her son’s eyes widened, which made her grin as she gave him a minute to process that. After all, they hadn’t ever told any of the kids how they’d come to meet and fall in Love for a reason.

“Like I’ve said for nearly twenty Years, I couldn’t decide which one I wanted more, so I went with both,” she snickered.

“And they’ve been okay with that the whole Time?” Zep asked, seeming amazed.

“Well, it’s not like I’ve tried to hide being with both from either,” the middle-aged woman laughed. “That’s if ya don’t count the sexual shenanigans, that is.”

“That’s _gotta_ be weird,” he chuckled. “I mean, they’re not exactly doing so, but they might as well be swapping spit and having sex with each other.”

“Oh, they’ve both said that pretty much from Day one,” Belle admitted. “But they know just how good they’ve got it by getting to have their cake and eat it, too, so to speak.”

“I guess that’s _one_ way to look at it,” the teenage boy mused.

“Well, think about it–they don’t have to fight each other instead of working together, but they still get what they both want in more ways than one,” she told him. “And there’s always been a father figure in the house for y’all kids, the exception physically being when both were on tour at the same Time in the earliest Years.”

“Can’t say that’s a wholly bad thing,” Zep chuckled.

“Kept _me_ from losing too many marbles from trying to wrangle y’all on my own,” the middle-aged woman agreed with a laugh of her own. “And not that I’m saying a gay or lesbian _couldn’t_ do an equally fantastic job, but there’s always been that sense of Duality in your Lives from having a feminine _and_ masculine Influence.”

“I’m sure it’s been more than a bit Insanity-inducing for _you,_ though,” he said.

Belle didn’t even try to deny that, in being out-numbered when it came to the amount of testosterone in the house, she often felt a lil frazzled. Then again, she gave as good as she got every Time she was pregnant, ’cuz her hormones’d been beyond through the roof during each of those periods. In fact, she recalled Times that–when they still lived in Tennessee–both her husbands’d hide in the Tree line on the back side of their property for hours on End. Sometimes, they’d even take a two-person tent to pitch and simply spend the Night out there, usually during her second trimester when she didn’t need as much help.

However, even when they were getting on her last nerve and making her wanna bean them with something, she couldn’t deny that she loved Bobby and Duff equally. They were both intelligent, Creative, compassionate, and too many other thingsta list that’d always drawn her to a guy. She coulda easily listed a few other reasons, but she doubted her son wanted to know _that_ kinda shit about his dad and half-dad.

“Yeah, I really _don’t_ wanna know that kinda shit–about _any_ of y’all,” Zep laughed. “Like I told Dad’s old band, I _know_ y’all’d to’ve had sex at least four Times, or we kids wouldn’t exist, but that doesn’t mean I want details!”

“No more than _we_ wanna give ’em, to be honest,” she agreed. “If we wanted to give those kinda detailsta anyone, we’d give ’em to each other.”

“But y’all don’t even tell what happens between you and each of ’em, do ya?” the teenage boy asked.

“Nope.” Belle couldn’t help a mischievous grin. “They give ’emselves enough reasonsta want brain bleach, if they ever start wondering what I do with each of ’em, and it’s more than a lil funny to let ’em.”

“I guess I’m just surprised thatcha decided to go back to 1988 with ’em, even with whatcha were telling me last Night,” he said.

“Something you’ll learn well as ya get older, son–Love knows no bounds,” the middle-aged woman told him, a Sage tone to her voice. “Some Loves can cross Oceans and Space–others like ours cross the very fabric of Time, itself.”

As the next couple months passed and _Samhain_ could be seen on the horizon, those bounds continued to be tested, but never broken. Duff was more than happy to continue with work at the bar, not even really thinking about wanting to make Music anymore. He was still every bit the musician he’d been when he met his wife, but he’d absolutely no desire still to become a part of what he considered the Axl Rose Band. There wasn’t any set amount of money on the Planet he could be offered to do such a thing, and besides, they made more than enough to survive on and then some with the bar.

On the other hand, Bobby was feeling that old longing even more than he’d felt it over the Summer after being reunited with his old band. In fact, it wasta the point that he’d gotten the guysta come over to the house a couple Times when Rikki, CC, and Richie’d come out to Arizona so they could jam together. He still wasn’t quite decided on rejoining the band, even temporarily, but jamming with them was good enough for him.

By January, though, even jamming wasn’t quite enough for the older bassist anymore, and not only could his former band tell, so could Duff and their shared wife. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he was starting to get a lil restless with his Life as it was, even though he still enjoyed it. The repetition of getting up, being a family man by Day, and then a bar owner by Night was finally starting to get old, even though he hadn’t been that last part a full three Years yet. But now that he’d been called out on it, Bobby couldn’t help finally admitting to feeling that way, even though part of him was kinda scared of what his family’s reaction was gonna be. He didn’t know how the kids–especially Zeph–were gonna take him wanting to rejoin his old band, even temporarily.

Zep just barely remembered Life with his dad as a touring musician, but one thing he remembered clearly was how happy he’d been, despite being so stressed. His full-blooded baby sister almost immediately burst into tears at the mere Thought of Daddy leaving, even for a lil while. Gypsi and Levi were a bit sad at the Thought of him leaving, too, but not quite as much as if it’d been the younger bassist. Then again, that wasta be expected since he wasn’t actually their father, and therefore none of them were _quite_ as attached to each other.

“Listen to me, baby girl–nothing’s set in Stone,” the older bassist said, pulling his crying daughter against him. “Just ’cuz I _wanna_ rejoin my old band doesn’t mean I’m actually _gonna.”_

“B-But–” she started to sob.

“But, nothin’.” Bobby pulled back so he could drop to one knee, which made it easier to look into her eyes. “Whas your favorite Poison song?”

“My top favorite, or my favorite from each album?” the lil girl countered, swiping at a tear as she cocked a brow at him.

“Doesn’t really matter to me,” he chuckled. “Just answer my question.”

_“Ummm… I Won’t Forget You_ from _Look What the Cat Dragged in, Every Rose_ from _Open Up, Ride the Wind_ from _Flesh and Blood, Fire and Ice_ from _Native Tongue,_ and _Be the One_ from _Crack a Smile,”_ Zeph finally answered after thinking about it.

“Lemme letcha in on a not-so-lil Secret.” The older bassist couldn’t help a grin any more than his shared wife and younger counterpart. _“I’m_ the one who played bass on _all_ those songs except _Be the One.”_

Her eyes widened so much that he thought they’d pop outta their sockets, which made him laugh.

“It’s true, baby girl,” Bobby told her. “Look at the credits on all those albums, and you’ll see _my_ name in there.”

“Whoa,” the lil girl breathed in Awe.

“And while I didn’t actually _track_ bass or backing vocals for _Be the One,_ I’m the one who wrote it,” he continued. “Well, Daddy Duff helped me, ’cuz we were writing it for Mama.”

“Really?” Zeph couldn’t have possibly looked any more shocked than she already did, if she tried.

Nodding, the older bassist explained how they’d been trying to come up with a way to remind Belle that they were there for her when she hit a rough patch they hadn’t let any of the kids see. After they’d finished their masterpiece and played it for her, they’d decided to sell the rightsta it since they knew damn good and well they’d never record and release it, themselves. It turned out to be his former band who’d bought the song, although they hadn’t realized he’d been the one to jointly write it till after they’d recorded it.

As she looked into her daddy’s eyes, the lil girl couldn’t deny that there was a certain fondness and longing there that she couldn’t recall having ever seen before. That was when her older brother knelt down beside them and gently rubbed her back as he got her to look at him now. He admitted that while fuzzy ’cuz he’d been so young at the Time, he remembered how both their dads’d loved being in their respective bands.

They’d an outlet in those bands that they didn’t have elsewhere, even with each other and their mother here at home. That wasn’t to say that he wasn’t happy with his family and the Life he’d built after leaving his band–he just wanted that Creative outlet back, even if it didn’t last long. After thirteen Years apart, he just might not be able to connect with his former band mates the way it’d take to remain a part of the band long-term again like they’d all said they wanted.

“The only way they’re gonna find out’s if they give it a shot, sis,” Zep told her.

“Bubba’s right, baby girl,” Bobby said, drawing her attention back to himself. “That doesn’t mean I’m just gonna stop loving my family, even if it _does_ work out.”

“It’s not?” the lil girl asked, unable to help a sniffle.

“Those goofballs–even Uncle Richie–drove me beyond nuts back in the Day, but they’re still like my brothers now,” he answered. “We really just needed Time apart to get all our heads on straight again, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have those bonds still.”

“And the same can be said for one’s family,” Belle spoke up as she gently squeezed her shoulder. “Just ’cuz he goes away for a while and we’re separated physically doesn’t mean he doesn’t love us anymore.”

“Trust us, girlie–Mama used to feel lonely when we were both on the road at the same Time,” Duff agreed. “But every Time we’d call home, we heard that sadness in her voice when she first answered, and when she realized who was calling, ya could literally _hear_ the smile the next Time she’d speak.”

“Besides, think about when ya say Daddy gets on your nerves ’cuz ya just want some Time to yourself,” the older bassist said. “Daddy gets the same way–even with Mama–and needs some Time somewhere elseta myself.”

“But you’re gonna come back, right?” Zeph asked, unable to help the quiver in her voice, nor the Fear in her eyes.

“Of course I’ma come back, baby girl,” he swore, pulling her into another hug. “Like I just told Bubba Zep last Night, the only thing ya kids’ve ever made me feel like I _had_ to do was be a better man and father than my own was. I wouldn’t be that, if I left and never came back.”

None of them said a word about that not including Death, ’cuz even Levi–despite being as young as he was–understood that he didn’t exactly have a choice in whether he lived or died in some cases. Even still, Bobby made sure not to hurt his baby girl as he hugged her tightly, not the least bit surprised she was being so clingy at the moment. After all, he’d never been away for longer than his classes while he was still in school, or overnight during business hours at the bar. This’d be the first Time he’d to leave his family since his son was a toddler, so she wasn’t the only one feeling a lil separation Anxiety.

With her tears dried as much as they were gonna be for now, everybody started going their separate ways for bedtime routines. Belle and Duff weren’t surprised that–for the first Time since she was around five Years old–Zeph wanted her daddy to administer said routine. That even included who helped her with her bath, which _was_ a bit of a surpriseta said daddy, but he wasn’t about to decline. As long as she was comfortable with such a thing, considering their obvious gender difference, he didn’t mind such a thing one bit.

It was a couple hours later as they were finally almost ready to head off to bed, themselves that the other couple realized he was nowhere to be found. All the rest of the kids were now in bed and asleep, so they knew damn good and well he wasn’t putting Levi to bed. Tip-toeing down the hall to where the girls’ rooms were, they peeked into that of the older one and couldn’t help the smiles that crossed their faces. Stretched out on his back, the older bassist was knocked out cold while Zeph used his torso as a mattress like she and Zep both’d done when they were babies. His left hand rested on her back as if he’d been rubbing it when they fell asleep, which allowed the Moonlight streaming through the blindsta glint off his handfasting band. They looked too comfortable and peaceful to wanna disturb, so the pair just quietly closed her door and left them to sleep.

Back in Duff’s suite downstairs, they were quick to settle into bed for the Night since they were both tired after a long, busy Day. Granted, that didn’t stop the younger bassist from gently toying with his wife a bit, glad when she reciprocated rather than trying to stop him. There was quite the Change on the horizon for the Dall-McKagan family, and it was palpable to everyone–but hopefully, it was a Change of the good persuasion.


	25. Twenty-Four

None of Poison breathed a word to the press about Bobby deciding to give being a full-Time band member another whirl. All of them agreed that it was better to surprise the fans with the fact that he and Richie were gonna share the role of bassist and backing vocalist for the band’s upcoming album. Since it was supposed to be an album chock full of covers they did–like the infamous Loggins and Messina song, _Your Mama Don’t Dance_ –that was as much for them as said fans, they were splitting the role as evenly as they could.

Any covers he’d done with the band in the Past were gonna be the older bassist’s domain, but there weren’t many that he’d already done before he quit in 1993. That left him and the younger brunette to squabble a lil bit, but they eventually came to an agreement that worked well for the two of them. Once that part was done, they were quick to announce the Intent to do the album, but that was where their announcements Ended.

During his Time in the studio with the Incarnation of his old band that’d existed since sometime between 1996 and 1999, Bobby couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying himself and be telling the Truth. Sure, it was stressful as all hell, and he certainly missed his family–his young daughter in particular–but he still had more fun than he’d had in a long Time. Granted, his Time away was eased a bit by the frequent phone calls from said family, and he made sure he got to go back for every Sabbat that rolled around. It wasn’t much of a fight to get to go back in Time for _Yule,_ considering it was just Days before Christmas, which the rest of the guys celebrated. But _Imbolc_ six weeks later was a bit of a different story, considering he _did_ have to put up a minimal fight for that.

By the Time the album’s release date of June twenty-first–the same Day as the Summer Solstice, _Litha_ –rolled around, Poison fans the World over were more than hyped. They couldn’t wait for one of the biggest bands of the eightiesta hit the road again, ’cuz it’d been a couple Years since their last Summer tour. Course, that hadn’t been quite as long as their wait for another tour after the disastrous Ending to the _Native Tongue_ tour, which’d left them waiting more than five Years. Still, everyone was beyond excited at the prospect–and that excitement was only gonna grow with the first show of the tour.

“Greenville, how ya doin’ tonight?” Bret screamed into his mic.

The rest of the band were taking their positions onstage at the opening show in Greenville, South Carolina, Bobby waiting backstage.

“All right, all right,” he laughed, glancing over at CC. “We’ve a helluva party planned tonight, so let’s get crackin’!”

The roar of cheers and applause was almost deafening, even with their in-ears already in.

“Let’s take it back to 1986 with one of our classics,” the vocalist said. _“Look what the Cat dragged in,_ fuckers!”

CC’s grin was almost face-cracking as he ripped into the opening riff, Rikki and Richie quick to follow suit as their cues arrived. The latter of the pair still wasn’t as keen on the band’s wild party anthems as he was their works from _Native Tongue_ and beyond, but it was obvious he still gave it his all. But even _he_ wasn’t too sure if he was trying to play better than he’d played in recent Years ’cuz of his predecessor being within earshot or not as they worked their way through the song.

“All right, I said before that we’ve a helluva a party planned for tonight,” Bret said once they’d rounded out their opening number.

“We wantcha to help us give a _very_ warm welcome to someone we haven’t seen in a while,” the lead guitarist continued, unable to help his grin.

“C’mon, y’all–help us welcome that face from flying where only Eagles dare!” Richie yelled into his own mic, sweeping his arm back toward the curtain behind him.

The crowd seemed confused at first, but every jaw in the house dropped as a certain face joined them.

“Surprise!” Bobby laughed once he’d run up to the mic set up for him on the other side of his successor, who was grinning just as maniacally as he and the rest of the guys were.

It was only a split-second later that the crowd erupted into a deafening roar of excited cheers and applause.

“I couldn’t help but make a liar of myself, for those of y’all that’ve seen last Summer’s interview where I said I wasn’t rejoining the band,” he said. “I guess ya could say there was no scratching _that_ proverbial itch, no matter how hard I tried.”

“Hey, I think we’re as glad to have ya here this Time as _they_ are, bro!” Rikki laughed from his kit.

“Then let’s hit it and go ride us some Winds, boys!” the older bassist yelled, sweeping an arm toward their resident cracker jack.

Letting out a laugh that sounded more like a cackle, CC was more than glad to rip into the opening riff of the song in question. All of the guys–including the younger brunette–knew damn good and well this was Bobby’s favorite song outta their entire catalog to play live. He’d said so plenty of Times in various interviews after the album it was on came out in 1990 before all their well-known lineup Changes. Despite how much Time’d passed since the last Time he’d joined them on a stage besides the one in his bar, that opinion still held true, and he’d never get tired of playing this particular number.

Their next number of the Night was one of the new covers they’d done for the album that was still about a week away from actually being released. It was the song _What I Like about You_ by The Romantics, which was another the older bassist’d have to say was a personal favorite of his. Well, that was outta the studio versions, seeing as how this was the first Time it was _ever_ being played live, of course.

Following that, Bobby handed his bass off to the tech he shared with his successor, who was covering bass for their next song. _Something to Believe In_ was a favorite amongst many fans, and one of the few songs he actually played piano on. He’d been the one to track the piano parts back when it was recorded, and he’d been the one to play them live up to his exit from the band. The one thing he remembered distinctly was that it took way too much precision Timing to switch from piano to bass without getting off-beat. Given that they’d agreed to share the role for the entirety of the tour, he didn’t see why Richie couldn’t cover bass for this song to make it that much easier on both of them.

But even as they moved through a couple more of the new covers, thus leading to the brunettes switching places on bass and piano for _Every Rose,_ his family wasn’t far from his mind. He couldn’t help Wishing they’d been able to come out with him so they could see this particular show since he knew a show closer to home just wouldn’t be quite the same. After all, by the Time that happened, the World would already know he’d at least temporarily rejoined Poison, and the reactions wouldn’t be quite the same.

“I just wanna take a minute to dedicate this one–among many others, of course–to my beautiful and ever-loyal wife,” the older bassist said into his mic as they prepped for the next song. “She’s been there for me through thick and thin right from Day one, and she takes me back to a lot more than just rocking Horses!”

The crowd erupted into yet another fit of cheering and applause, which made him laugh as he waited them out.

“Should she somehow manage to see this–this one’s to _you,_ sweetheart! _Ti amo molto, mia bella Musica Strega!”_ Bobby said, then turned to nod at his drummer.

Returning the nod, Rikki counted them in before starting a number they hadn’t played since well before he’d quit the band. If he recalled right, they hadn’t busted out this particular song onstage since sometime during the _Open Up_ tour in 1989. After that, it’d kinda fallen by the wayside in favor of other songs off that album, particularly the ballad they’d just played and another one of their party anthems that they actually Intended to use as an encore tonight.

While he was busy covering bass for this song and _Your Mama Don’t Dance,_ Richie headed backstage for a quick break. They’d already agreed that as the tour wore on, they’d figure out which songs suited each of them best so they wouldn’t play more than half of each set, if it could be helped. It’d just take them a bit to get those few kinks completely ironed out, which always happened at the Beginning of a new tour.

After those two songs, Bobby took a quick break of his own while the younger brunette was covering him for their song, _#1 Bad Boy_. Much like _Back to the Rocking Horse,_ it hadn’t been played live in almost twenty Years, ’cuz they’d pretty much given up on it after their first serious tour. They mighta really liked it–why would they’ve recorded it, if they hadn’t?–but it hadn’t seemed like the fans were all that fond of it. But they’d needed to Change up the setlist for this tour, or everyone was gonna get bored with it eventually, no matter how much the fans loved certain songs.

“Greenville, y’all were awesome tonight!” Bret laughed once they rounded out their performance with _Nothin’ but a Good Time_ as their encore. “I think ya rocked _our_ World as much as _we_ rocked yours!”

The rest of the band couldn’t help cracking up at the thinly-veiled referenceta the Reality dating show he’d done earlier in the Year as the crowd went insane with yet more cheers and applause.

“Keep on rockin’ out, ’cuz God knows we will!” he said. “Thank ya, and good Night!”

It was pretty obvious that the crowd still wanted more as they took a final bow together before finally heading backstage as a group. But whether they wanted to keep playing or not, they were all starting to get tired since it always took the first few Nightsta get used to tour schedule again. Not only that, but the vocalist needed to check his sugar and make sure he wasn’t about to fall out on them since the last place they wanted to End up tonight was the ER. That’d prolly be the worst possible way to End a show short of someone dying, and since nobody seemed to be dying yet, they didn’t wanna take any chances.

Even as he mopped off the worst of the sweat and gladly took a Water bottle from his shared tech, Bobby said he was gonna head off to call home. He wanted to talk to Zeph before it got too late so he could find out how she was doing, considering he was nearly clean across the country from her. She’d just barely avoided another breakdown when he left since she knew he was gonna be gone far longer this Time.

Luckily for him, his baby girl turned out to be doing pretty well, although she made no bones about missing him since he was so far away. Despite not liking it in the slightest, she was making do with Daddy Duff doling out enough kisses, hugs, and cuddles for both bassists. She still couldn’t wait till he got to come back home, even though she hoped he was having enough fun for the entire family. Bobby was quick to Return the sentiment, letting her know that they’d all been on his mind throughout the whole show. He couldn’t help a chuckle as he admitted that he’d been thinking about his family so much that he’d actually been running on autopilot for about half the show.

A sweet giggle he’d fallen in Love with the first Time he’d ever heard it when she was just a baby filled the older bassist’s ear, and he couldn’t help feeling like his heart was simply fluttering in his chest. Telling her to behave for her mama and half-daddy, he’d to cut the phone call a bit short, if he wanted Time to talk to his wife and son, too. He still needed to grab a shower in the locker room, or he’d be stinking up half the bus once bus call was made since he _really_ didn’t relish being left behind.


	26. Twenty-Five

It wasn’t till the tour made a stop in Phoenix for a show at the Dodge Theatre that Bobby’d even half a chanceta see his family again till they were off the road. The tour was supposed to run through the first week of September or so, which was almost identical to the Summer tour all but said older bassist’d gone on the Year previous. For the most part, they’d been playing all up and down the Eastern seaboard, as well as all across the Midwest, and his wife hadn’t wanted to drag the kids across the country. Just dragging them to the next State over woulda been pushing it, considering that Duff woulda insisted on bringing Gypsi and Levi for their own first-ever concert, too.

As said family arrived at the venue, considering they didn’t live that far away from Phoenix, he was knocked out in his bunk. They’d just had a show the Night previous in Chula Vista, California, so they’d all been up pretty late for that and just to wind down afterward. He’d been so exhausted by the Time he’d managed to grab a shower that he’d decided against trying to call home for once. Chances were, he’d have fallen asleep in the middle of the phone call–assuming anyone actually answered, that is, given how late it was.

“Morn, all,” Howie chuckled as he opened the bus door to find all the guys’ families and loved ones.

“Morn, Howie,” Belle answered, barely holding her older daughter back. “I’m guessing they’re still out cold?”

“Prolly wouldn’t even hear a Tornado siren go off,” he laughed. “Top bunk on the right once ya get into the bunk room since I know at least one lil girl’s excited.”

“What about _my_ daddy?” Richie’s daughter, August, asked.

“His is right below Bobby’s,” the manager answered. “Let somebody help Zeph wake _her_ daddy up, then ya can take your turn.”

“Guess I better go with, or she’ll hurt herself trying to climb up there,” the lone blonde bassist chuckled. “C’mon, August, and I’ll boostcha up into your own daddy’s bunk.”

Giggling, both girls gladly followed the giant of an Irishman, who paused outside the bunk room door to make them shut up. Once they’d managed to Silence their giggles, Duff quietly opened said door and led them in, not surprised to see every bunk curtain pulled as tightly closed as they could be. Knowing his older counterpart was usually a light-sleeper unless he was just drop-dead exhausted, he wrapped an arm around his half-daughter’s waist and hefted her up before even bothering to open that curtain. He wanted to be ready to plop her lil behind in it so he could yank the curtain shut again before she actually woke him up.

Zeph’d to bite her wrist to keep from giggling as her half-daddy settled her next to her daddy, who didn’t even seem to notice his curtain being pulled open. She let the blonde close it again before actually crawling onto him so she straddled his waist, which woulda been a far more suggestive position, if she’d been her mother instead.

 _“Hmm-mmmph,”_ Bobby hummed as he felt the weight settle on him. “If your name ain’t Belle, get the fuck off me.”

“But _Daaaaddyyyy,”_ the lil girl whined, somehow biting back a giggle as she pouted adorably.

“What the–” he said, reaching up to the reading Light so he could turn it on. He didn’t even hear Duff snickering as he did the same thing to Richie with the youngest bassist’s daughter.

“Good Morn, Daddy!” Zeph giggled once he could finally see her relatively clearly.

“Chu booger!” the oldest bassist onboard chuckled as he ruffled her hair. “Since when did chu learn how to teleport?”

“She didn’t, man,” his blonde counterpart said as August woke her own daddy.

“Lemme guess–y’all ain’t alone, are ya?” Bobby asked, pulling his bunk’s curtain open just enough to peek out.

“Far from it,” he laughed, Richie chuckling as August bounced on his belly to wake him up and the rest of the guys started to stir. “Pretty much everybody but your parents’re all here.”

“Wait, what?” This was asked by Rikki as he peeked outta his bunk, his aqua eyes still glazed with the remnants of sleep.

Duff grinned as even Bret peeked out, Raine and Jorja finally managing to get into the bunk room and almost immediately crawling into his bunk with him since it was one of the lowest ones.

 _“Oof!”_ he squeaked, laughing as they both flopped on top of him. “Chu boogers–let Daddy up so I can go potty, then we’ll cuddle till Sound check.”

“Sound check–whas dat?” Raine asked, even as _all_ the girls moved to let their respective daddy up for the Day.

As the blonde helped Zeph back down so she wouldn’t fall, then worked with Richie to get the next oldest girl back on the floor, they all sat up with loud yawns. Bobby was quick to explain that they always did Sound check before a show to make sure none of their equipment’d gotten busted on the drive from one venue to the next. Not only that, but sometimes, slight adjustments were needed to make them sound exactly like they wanted them to, as well as cut out any feedback that’d ruin a show.

Once they’d all gotten up and taken as quick of a Morn piss as they could possibly manage, everybody started heading up to the front of the busta greet the waiting group. The oldest bassist wasn’t surprised to see that his wife’d taken charge and was already working on food for mostly the band, which made him chuckle. Gladly giving him a quick kiss, she shooed everyone off the bus, saying they were gonna eat outside it since out there, they’d been able to set up picnic tables. At least then, nobody’d have to sit in anyone else’s lap unless they really wanted to, which’d be far more comfortable for everybody.

Even Richie greeted his ex-wife relatively warmly, although pretty much everybody suspected he was just being civil due to their daughter’s presence. Most’d heard that it wasn’t exactly a clean divorce, but then again, no divorce really ever was, especially when there was a child involved. He’d to be given kudos, though, for at least trying to behave himself, whether he knew how quick Belle’d put a stop to any fighting or not.

With everybody settled at the picnic tables outside, Duff started helping said wife get everybody served, neither one surprised by all the girls settling in their daddies’ laps. It was pretty obvious that said girls’d missed the hell outta each respective man, but they’d missed their baby girls just as much. Those with Romantic partners made sure they got to settle next to them, if their lap was taken by one of the girls, while those who didn’t have kids let said Romantic partner settle in their lap. CC seemed more than content to let his girlfriend, Shannon–who was only a couple inches shorter than him–settle in his lap, and nobody missed how his hands quickly found their way to her lower belly.

“Something ya wanna tell us, C?” Bret asked with a grin.

“Huh–whatcha talkin’ ’bout?” he countered, obviously fighting a grin of his own.

“Well, there’s only a couple reasons your hands’d be on her belly since she obviously not about to fall outta your lap,” the drummer chuckled.

CC simply continued fighting his grin, which made said girlfriend laugh.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll wind up taking over the bus eventually, if we _don’t_ wind up at a hotel tonight,” she laughed. “But leave him alone and let him enjoy knowing he’s gonna be a daddy, too.”

Just about everybody, even Bobby, looked surprised when she said that.

“It’s true, guys,” the lead guitarist told them. “She told me that she’d just found out when I got to talk to her the other Night.”

“Well, no Wonder you’ve been so bouncy the last couple Days,” the oldest bassist chuckled. “’Cuz I was starting to wonder if we were about to have a repeat of the early-nineties.”

“No way, man!” He was vehement in his denial, Platinum hair flying as he shook his head wildly. “Gave that mess up ’cuz I got sick and tired of _being_ sick and tired!”

“Good to know, C,” Richie said with a chuckle of his own. “And congrats–but get ready to never have another good Night’s sleep again.”

“Ain’t that the Truth, man?” Even the blonde bassist couldn’t help laughing. “Gods, I haven’t had a good Night’s sleep since _Zep_ was born, and he ain’t even mine!”

“None of y’all that already have kids’d have it any other way, though,” his shared wife was quick to remind them.

None of them could deny the point she made, ’cuz they’d have been lying, if they’d said they didn’t love their collective kids or Wished they’d never been born. That didn’t mean that said kids didn’t get on their nerves sometimes, ’cuz they damn well did–but it wasn’t enough to make them stop loving them. If anything, the annoyance they caused often somehow made them love the kids–not to mention said kids’ other parents–even more than they already did.

Before long, it was Time for the guysta hit the stage for Sound check, their families settling in the first couple rows of seatsta watch. No one was surprised when Bret got his daughters up on the stage with him, ’cuz it was something he’d done every chance he got ever since Raine was born. Taking a page outta his play book, the oldest bassist did the same, his own daughter squealing happily as she ran ahead of her brother. Zep couldn’t help a laugh as he actually covered lead vocals for one of the songs they choseta run through while testing their gear. He hadn’t gotten any chances like this when he was lil ’cuz he’d been too young, and none of the band’s shows’d been close enough to their old home in Tennessee.

Once they’d satisfied themselves with their equipment, Bobby decided he was dragging his wife off for some alone Time. He knew the tour wasn’t gonna last another full month, but he’d missed her too much to pass up the opportunity while it was available to him. Besides, no matter how young or old he was, he was a needy man–but he wasn’t about to cheat on her after nearly twenty Years together.

The entire group laughed as they appropriated the bus, none of them quite sure if it was CC who dragged his girlfriend off or the other way around. No doubt the shortest blonde was just as needy as his rhythmic counterpart, but if there as one thing the dads all remembered clearly, it was how their women’d been needier than normal while pregnant. If she was actually pregnant, no doubt she was needier than both guitarist and bassist combined, were any other pregnancy they’d witnessed anything to judge by. Luckily, they didn’t have to start getting ready for the show for a while, so hopefully that’d be more than enough Time for them.

By the Time the guys’d to start getting ready for the show about three hours later, Bobby and CC’d managed to have their fun and even catch a nap. Duff’d somehow wound up watching _all_ the kids when even the rest of the band disappeared with their girls, his half-son proving to be an invaluable help with the younger ones. Well, Richie was also still there to help watch them since his own girlfriend hadn’t been able to join everyone else due to a prior engagement involving her own career.

The oldest bassist was more relaxed than he’d been the entire tour, all the adults laughing at the goofy smile on his face as he got ready. Much like he’d have done nearly twenty Years ago, he stuck his tongue out at the, laughing when his daughter reached up to grab it with a giggle of her own. Zeph knew the household rule wasta keep tongues in mouths, ’cuz if they were meant to be elsewhere, they’d have been put there at Birth.

During the first three songs–the first two, especially–he was a bit worried that playing them in front of the kids wasn’t exactly a good idea. As suggestive as the lyrics of _Look What the Cat Dragged in_ and _I Want Action_ both were, he kinda didn’t wanna play them in front of young, impressionable children. Then again, they’d no doubt heard the songs in question plenty of Times when listening to the album they were on, which was the only real reason he didn’t try to Change up their setlist tonight. But it was just before the fourth song that he held up a hand to make the band take pause, which garnered him curious looks from even the crowd.

“What’s up, man?” Richie asked, turning just enough to see him clearly, but for his mic to still catch his words.

“I just wanna do something special before we dive into it,” the older brunette chuckled.

Even the trio of blondes cocked their brows at him curiously, which just made him grin.

“I wanna take a moment to dedicate even this song to my gorgeous wife–as well as someone else,” Bobby said before turning to glance backstage where they were hiding with the rest of the families. “Even when I’m gone longer than any of us’d like, this song–especially the chorus–still rings true.”

The guys couldn’t help the collective _awww_ they let out, which made the crowd laugh.

“Why don’t y’all c’mon out here and help us out, girls?” he asked, grinning as his daughter’s eyes widened. “Even the one I affectionately refer to as my half-daughter!”

Zeph and Gypsi both looked surprised, their mother laughing as she gently herded them out onto the stage with a bit of help from Duff.

“Y’all just remember that no matter how many tours I go on and how long I’m gone each Time… _I won’t forget you,”_ the older bassist swore.

Swinging his bass over his shoulder so it hung down his back, the headstock directed toward the floor of the stage, he bent down just enough to heft both girls up against his chest. They both squealed as they wrapped their arms around his neck, both managing to wrap at least one leg around his waist as he managed to get them settled on his hips. Laughter and more _awwws_ at the cuteness of the scene rang out as he positioned himself where they could all reach his mic without having to strain.

Belle moved across the stage to where CC stood since he was the shortest band member, and therefore wouldn’t have to adjust his gear to fit her quite as much. The running joke was that she was a short stack, or that she was fun-sized, which was definitely true since she’d topped out at five-three or so ever since the age of twelve. At five-seven or so, the lead guitarist really only had to change the angle of his mic for her to reach it, whereas the others woulda had to either shorten their stands and be trying to sing while hunched over, or take the mics outta said stands and kneel down while they held them in their hands.

The lead guitarist waited for Rikki to count him in before he started playing his part of the intro, which Richie and said drummer joined in on after three or four seconds. As the younger brunette covered his riff, Bobby kinda, sorta danced with both girls on his hips, unable to help the grin on his face as he did. Course, even the girls were grinning like fools as they clung to him like lil Monkeys, which never failed to get old for him.

 _“Late at Night, I close my eyes and think of how things could have been… And when I look back, I remember some words you had said to me…”_ Bret sang once his cue’d arrived. _“It’s better to’ve lost at Love than never to have loved at all! I won’t forget you, baby…”_

 _“I won’t forget you,”_ the rest of the guys, Belle, and the girls echoed, the older bassist looking down at his daughter as he did.

 _“Even though I could, I won’t forget you, baby…”_ he continued, unable to help his grin.

 _“I won’t forget you,”_ everyone else echoed again. This Time, though, Bobby looked down at Gypsi since he hadn’t been kidding in calling her his half-daughter.

 _“Even though I should, yeah,”_ the vocalist sang, wrapping up the chorus before a short pause. _“Sometimes in my head, I can still see pictures of you_ – _and I laugh to myself when I think of all those crazy things that we used to do… Although miles come between us, just between you and me…I won’t forget you, baby…”_

At this point, even the crowd was joining in, which only made the smiles and grins on their faces somehow grow even wider as they went into the more or less squealing guitar solo this song–among others–was known for. Even as he continued to dance slightly, the older bassist craned his neck so he could nuzzle both girls’ hair and kiss their foreheads. The giggles that ensued were picked up by his mic since they were so closeta it, which forced him to bite back laughter as the crowd let out yet another _awww_.

Once that song’d been rounded out, he moved to set the girls down again, unable to bite back his laugh this Time as Zeph pouted at him adorably. He couldn’t help ruffling her hair as he gently shooed her backstage on the grounds that it was his turn to cover bass while Richie took a short break. But he told her that if she behaved, he might let her join them again later on in the set for another number, which made her eyes Light up.

Turning his attention back to his mic and the crowd, Bobby waited till she wouldn’t be at risk of being hit by accident to swing his bass back around into a playing position. He knew that after their cover of The Romantics’ _What I Like about You,_ everybody except their resident cracker jack’d be heading backstage for a break during his solo. After that’d come one of the very few songs he actually sang lead on instead of Bret before _Something to Believe In_. Remembering the setlist for tonight actually gave him an idea on how to keep his promiseta his daughter, and even his half-daughter, though. They’d both wanted to learn how to play the piano part, so he’d sat down with them and started teaching them about a Year ago.

Gathered backstage a short while later, the older bassist gladly took the cool towel and Water bottle Richie handed him, the techs doing the same for all but CC. While it’d been Years since he’d actually done such a thing, he was actually entertaining the notion of getting the Sound tech to unwire him long enough to shed his shirt. Those stage Lights were no joke in the amount of heat they produced, and considering how long it’d been since he’d toured, he still wasn’t completely acclimated to them again. Making his decision, he waved said tech over before getting the guys’ attention while the man was working on that for him.

“What’s up, Bob?” the vocalist asked, which made him roll his eyes since he knew he hated that nickname.

“Just had a spark of Inspiration,” he answered once they were gathered ’round where they could hear.

“Oh–and what’d that be?” Rikki asked curiously as he pulled his shirt off, then snatched up an old leather vest of his that hadn’t seen the Light of Day in over a decade.

“Well, I kinda, sorta made that promiseta Zephie onstage,” Bobby answered, letting the Sound tech get him wired up again.

“Figured out which song you’re willing to bring her back out for?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Her and Gypsi both, if they wanna and Duff’ll let the latter,” the oldest bassist answered.

“Really?” Said blonde girl’s eyes positively lit up at the prospect.

“Hey, y’all’re pretty good at the piano part for _Something to Believe In,”_ he laughed. “And that’s a lot tamer than a lotta the stuff in this band’s catalog.”

“They really are,” the blonde bassist agreed. “Course, they’ve had a helluva teacher tickling the Ivories with them, too.”

Bobby couldn’t help a proud grin as the girls giggled almost shyly.

“All right, so what exactly’re ya thinking?” Bret asked. _“Dueling basses_ with Richie, or are ya gonna play the piano part with these two?”

“I say let these two handle piano–too many hands when all three of us try to play it at once,” the oldest bassist said. “Unless Richie wants a slightly longer break, ’cuz I’m cool with even that.”

 _“Dueling Basses_ sounds good to me, man,” Richie agreed, nodding.

 _“Dueling Basses?”_ Gypsi asked, looking just as confused as her half-sister.

“We might have to letcha watch the movie that made it infamous sometime, kiddo, but it’s a crack at something called _Dueling Banjos,”_ Bret chuckled. “I’d explain it a lil better than that, but we’re kinda on a Time crunch right now.”

“Don’t worry about it, Bret,” Belle laughed. “I’ll edu-ma-cate ’em when we get ’em back home and we’re all awake enough to bother.”

Laughing at the look on the blonde bassist’s face since he clearly wasn’t too sure about that, the guys got ready to join their resident cracker jack again. Bobby swore up and down he wouldn’t actually use the girls’ names when he called them out any more than he’d done earlier, if that made him feel any better for the moment. He didn’t exactly want the World knowing his own daughter’s name since they were still trying to figure out if his son’s was actually Zach or not.

Out on the stage as they waited both for CC to guzzle a bottle of Water and said girlsta be wired up real quick, the rest of them made minute adjustmentsta their gear. The Lights were all turned down so that the crowd couldn’t really see the extra bodies dart out to take their place at the piano that’d been set up. After getting a thumbs-up from said guitarist, Rikki counted them in so Zeph and Gypsi could start playing their more or less assigned part. Luckily, they didn’t prove their daddy–or rather, half-daddy, in one’s case–to be a liar as they started plunking it out in tandem without missing a single beat.

Bobby remained in a more or less relaxed position as he counted the beats in his head, listening as Bret kicked up the lead vocals about twenty seconds in. His younger, brunette counterpart took up much the same stance since there was only the piano part up till about fifty seconds in. It was at that point that the rest of the band joined in following their lead guitarist’s first few notes after the first verse.

The Lights came up as they did so, finally revealing who was actually at the piano–and that it wasn’t who they’d have thought at first. Unless they were mistaken, it seemed like the crowd was pleasantly surprised by seeing the two girls from earlier seated at it, most fans old enough to remember that it’d been the older bassist to play that part, even live. Said man couldn’t help the smile on his face through even the sadder parts of this song as he and the rest of the guys covered their backing lines. Even the part about a close friend and former body guard of the vocalist’s, who’d tragically gotten a lil too caught up in the Lifestyle of the eighties and passed shortly before the inception of this song couldn’t steal that smile entirely.


	27. Twenty-Six

The next Morn–or maybe more aptly, afternoon–the guys were more than a bit upset when they woke up to find out that the cough Bret’d been dealing with for the last week or so had finally caught up with him. Combined with the stress of singing lead Night after Night, he’d developed a case of laryngitis so bad, he couldn’t even whisper when he tried. It certainly didn’t help that his throat hurt so bad, it felt like he’d swallowed a handful of fresh Lava on top of it all.

Dragging a hand down their faces, the rest of the band and their manager all wondered just how the hell they were supposed to finish off the tour instead of cutting it short. Judging by how he sounded right now, they doubted their vocalist’d get his voice back in even a week, let alone by the next Day. After a few moments, that was when their older bassist face-palmed hard enough to make his eyes roll independently of each other, a sudden stroke of genius hitting him–and hard. He grumbled to himself as he jumped up to head back to the bunk room for a few moments, all of the guys looking at him like he’d lost his mind. It was only after he Returned, his phone in hand, that he started to even try explaining that sudden stroke of geniusta them.

“Gimme five minutes, if that, to put in a call, and I might have an answer to our problems,” he said, flipping said phone open.

“Whaddaya mean, man?” Rikki asked, sounding as sleepy as he did confused.

“My idea’s gonna require a bit of an instrument switch–and might involve us putting up with a couple minors, for that matter,” the older bassist said, sounding a bit distracted as he powered up the device in his hand.

“Um, I’m not sure we’re awake enough to follow ya, man.” It was his successor who’d said that right before letting out a loud yawn.

“You’re not gonna believe it till ya hear it, but Belle can sound damn near identical to Bret when she feels like it,” Bobby finally explained.

_“Ahhhh,_ I think I get where you’re going,” Howie spoke up, nodding. “And it just might work, if ya can get her to agree.”

“Then where am I going?” he asked, chuckling as he opened up his contacts.

“You’re thinking see if _she’ll_ fill in for Bret,” the manager answered. “And if she will, have _Richie_ switch to rhythm guitar for any songs that require it while you’re on bass the entire show.”

“Bingo.” The older bassist shot him a grin. “You’re such a smart cookie, Howie.”

“Nah, I just still know ya better than ya think after all these Years,” he laughed, quickly shutting up as they heard ringing from him putting his phone on speaker.

_“Well, well, well_ – _look what the Cat’s_ already _dragged in,”_ she chuckled by way of a greeting when she answered.

“More like just dragged outta bed,” Bobby laughed.

_“Didn’t think I’d be hearing from ya_ this _soon, though, since we just saw each other yesterday,”_ the middle-aged woman mused.

“Hell, I didn’t, either, sweetheart,” he admitted. “But I’ve a favor to beg of ya.”

_“Oh_ – _the great Bobby Dall actually begging?”_ Belle laughed. _“This, I gotta hear, ’cuz this is gonna be good.”_

“Well, ya remember that comment thatcha made about Bret sounding like he’d swallowed more than a couple Frogs last Night?” the older bassist asked.

_“Fuck, I ain’t heard him sound that bad since back in the nineties when he still smoked,”_ she answered. _“I almost asked who stole his voice, to be honest.”_

“Not who–more like _what,”_ Bobby said. “He’s had a cough for the last week or so, but we didn’t think much of it–till he woke up with laryngitis so bad, he can’t even whisper this Morn.”

The middle-aged woman’s wince was actually audible to the rest of the band. _“Lemme guess_ – _you’re wanting to exploit me, right?”_

“Well, you’re the only other person I’ve ever heard that can sound practically identical to him,” he chuckled. “Our only other choice’s to cut it short and c’mon back home.”

Belle hummed thoughtfully before she actually responded. _“Only way I’m doing it’s if_ Unskinny Bop _ain’t in the setlist_ – _or y’all agree to switch it out for_ Let it Play, _if it is.”_

“It’s not this Time around,” the older bassist assured her. “Not that I’d try to make ya do it since ya dunno even half the lyricsta it.”

“Wait, she seriously doesn’t?” Richie asked, finally Enlightening her to being on speaker.

_“No, I don’t,”_ she answered with a laugh. _“It gives me that_ nails-on-a-chalkboard _kinda feeling, I hate it so much, so I never bothered learning the lyrics.”_

“Guess that makes sense,” Rikki mused. “But if you’re willing to help us out, it’ll be greatly appreciated.”

That was when Bobby took over his phone call again and said he was actually entertaining the notion of her bringing the girls with her. If he and the younger bassist made a bit of an instrument switch, they’d still need somebody to cover piano on the songs that’d such a part, like _Every Rose_ and _Something to Believe In_. But since the plan’d been for them to cover those kinda parts as equally as possible, they hadn’t hired a touring pianist this Time around. Now, at nearly the End of the tour, they prolly couldn’t find anyone to hire even temporarily, if they bothered trying.

Belle hummed thoughtfully again, her next words obviously yelled down the hall or something as she called out to her younger husband. It was a few moments before they heard his voice clearly, meaning she musta closeted herself in the office and had to wait on him to join her. After they heard him, they were all quick to greet the blonde who’d obviously left his half-son in charge to join his shared wife.

Said shared wife was quick to bring him up to speed on her older husband’s idea, which included explaining the problem that’d even sparked such an idea. Duff couldn’t bite back a wince that was audible to the band, his next response directed at Bret as he told him he hoped he felt better soon. Catching the blonde’s nod, Bobby let him know he’d been heard, but the vocalist hadn’t bothered trying to respond verbally since he couldn’t even whisper right now.

_“I’m cool with the girls going with her,”_ he said. _“I mean, they’ll prolly miss the first week or so of school unless we set them up with that homeschool program we’d to use when we first moved out here again.”_

_“But even if we didn’t, they’re smart girls_ – _they’ll catch up quicker than we think,”_ the middle-aged woman said, mostly to reassure Howie.

“If you’re both sure about that,” said manager told them reluctantly.

_“Belle and I’ve shared joint custody over Gypsi and Levi since the Days they were born as much as she and Bobby have over Zep and Zeph,”_ Duff told him. _“Since I know she wouldn’t do anything to endanger them or hold them back, I’m not gonna argue it.”_

_“That, and ’cuz ya know I’ll just cutcha off for a month,”_ she laughed.

_“That, too, hon,”_ the younger bassist agreed with a chuckle. _“Only other reason I’d try to argue it’s if the tour were supposed to last longer than it is and we couldn’t get them in that homeschool program so they’d stay on track, even while they’re on the road.”_

“Sounds like ya got a helluva system already set up,” Rikki said, unable to help a laugh of his own.

“Well, when we first moved back out West, it was in the middle of the school Year,” Bobby explained. “The easiest way to do that was by homeschooling ’em till the End of that school Year, then letting them actually start school again when the new one kicked off.”

“They’d have to make that kinda transition either way, but it was prolly easier than taking them outta one public school and tossing them into another in the middle of the Year,” CC mused.

“Especially across the country from where they’d grown up,” he agreed.

Since all the parents seemed to be in agreement with one another, Duff and Belle bid their goodbyes so they could go get the girls enrolled in that homeschool program and pack bags, respectively. Once they were packed up and ready to go, the middle-aged woman’d worry about booking a flight from Phoenix to Vegas, which was where they were currently at on their Day off. It’d be easier to do it that way since a flight’d be just over an hour, versus a five-plus hour drive where she’d have to listen to the girls complaining the whole Time. Not only that, but she didn’t wanna just abandon her truck once they left to head for the next tour stop somewhere in Utah or Colorado–she openly admitted that she’d forgotten which.

Bidding his own laughing goodbye, Bobby Ended the call to let them take care of those things so they could head out. He told her to shoot him a text with their flight information and he’d make sure he was at the airport to get them, himself. After all, he didn’t Intend to do anything but just relax today, so it wasn’t like he’d anything pressing to reschedule or simply cancel. Course, even if that _had_ been the case, he’d have skipped out on anything like an interview, if he’d no other choices.

It was about four hours before the older bassist found himself waiting in the arrivals section of McCarran International, or LAS to go by its airport code. Belle’d texted him and let him know that. after getting through security once they’d actually gotten to Phoenix Sky Harbor–or PHX–it’d be about half an hour to an hour before they could board. That killed about two hours since they’d Ended their call, and the flight was supposed to be a lil over an hour, according to what she’d texted him. However, as was typical, they found out upon getting through security that it’d been delayed by about half an hour due to an unruly passenger on the plane’s trip into Phoenix just previousta that.

Since it was his Day off and their Vegas show wasn’t even till the next Day, Bobby wasn’t too worried about staying on schedule. He knew there was plenty of Time for them to get to Vegas before they were needed, or he wouldn’t have bothered trying to beg his wife to help them out. That, or he’d have gotten her to fly to their next tour stop with the girls instead and just meet them at whatever hotel they wound up at there or something since that coulda been done, too.

He spotted the half of his family that’d flown up to Vegas almost as soon as they came down the tunnel that connected the plane to the airport. Smiling as he headed over to them, he certainly hoped this idea worked out as well as he thought it would when it’d come to mind. If anything, he really just hoped she could manage to do his band mate Justice without completely stealing his Thunder. Granted, that’d never be Belle’s actual Intent in something like this–it’d be a total accident, if such a thing _did_ happen. She was just that good with her vocal talents, something he and Duff’d known for nearly two decades after they’d first heard her sing.

“Hey there, sugar,” Bobby said, leaning down as she rose on tiptoe for a kiss.

“Ugh, I swear,” she grumbled as they parted. “Humanity makes me sick and question its level of Intelligence more than it doesn’t most Times.”

“Oh, really?” the older bassist asked, unable to help a smirk. He knew his wife was above average in Intelligence, and one of her biggest pet-peeves was blatant stupidity.

“Damn couple got into a fight in midair on the flight our plane’d been making into PHX,” Belle answered. “It got so outta hand, they’d cops waiting to arrest ’em when it landed.”

“Course, it wound up being FBI jurisdiction,” he mused. “They always do when they happen in midair like that.”

“Naturally,” the middle-aged woman dead-panned. “Let’s just go get our stuff and get to either the bus or a hotel before I snap and go postal on somebody.”

Bobby couldn’t help a laugh as he grabbed his daughter’s hand, Gypsi grabbing their mother’s so neither girl got lost in the airport. They were quick to snag their bags off the conveyor belt once they made it to baggage claim, but he wasn’t surprised that said girls needed a potty break before they could head outside. Even if they’d gone before boarding their flight or at some point in the middle of it, their bladders were a lot smaller than an adult’s.

Once all three womenfolk’d made their runsta the bathroom, the older bassist led them out to the lil sedan Howie’d insisted on hitching to the back of the bus for this tour. It felt more like trying to stuff himself into a literal Sardine can, but at least he didn’t have to stay in it for very long. Neither of the girls could help laughing as he’d to drive with his knees practically around his ears, the car was so small compared to him.

At the hotel they’d decided to stay in, rather than staying crammed on the bus, he managed to unfold himself from the driver’s seat without breaking anything. Said seat was quickly raised so Zeph could crawl out behind him, Belle mimicking his actions on the other side with Gypsi. Only then did he lock the doors, the key at the ready as he headed around to pop the trunk and grab their bags for them. Well, more like as many as he could carry since they’d a suitcase and a carry-on apiece, which woulda been a struggle for just about any man to manage on his own.

“Glad to see ya made it in three pieces,” Howie said by way of greeting when he opened the door to the suite he was sharing with Bret.

“Yeah, so’re we,” she chuckled, moving to give him a hug. “Long Time, no see, man.”

“Got that right,” the manager agreed as he took a step back. “And these’re the lil princesses, huh?”

“That, they are,” Bobby answered, pulling them against his sides. “Zeph’s the brunette, and my actual daughter–Gypsi’s the blonde, and I affectionately refer to her as my half-daughter.”

“So I noticed when ya dedicated _I Won’t Forget You_ to them last Night,” he said. “Any particular reason why ya use that term, though?”

“Well, she’s technically more of a stepdaughter than anything,” the older bassist admitted as they entered the suite and closed the door. “But since Duff and I work together as much as with Belle to raise all four kids, she and Levi might as well be mine, too, sometimes.”

“We think of it kinda like the kids being half-siblings, if that makes any sense,” Belle explained. “Zep and Zeph’re full-blooded siblings as much as Gypsi and Levi are, but each pair’s only half-siblingsta the other.”

“That actually _does_ make a bit more sense,” Howie admitted.

“I’m guessing Bret’s doped up on cold meds and knocked out?” she asked.

A knock on the wall behind them made them turn to look over their shoulders before the manager even had a chanceta answer.

_“Ooh,_ yikes,” the middle-aged woman winced once she clapped eyes on the disheveled, miserable-looking blonde. “Park your ass on the couch, and you’ll thank me in the minute.”

Bret looked half-confused, but didn’t try to argue as he shuffled over to where the small living area of the suite was.

“What’re ya gonna do?” Howie asked.

“Is it the honey trick, Mama?” Zeph asked, apparently catching on to her mother’s train of Thought already.

“Yeah, it is, sweet pea,” Belle answered, nodding as she rooted through her suitcase for something. “I just can’t give him as much of it, whether we check his sugar or not.”

The older bassist sat the girls down so he could explain why giving him too much honey was a bad idea, considering they didn’t know about his diabetes. Said vocalist didn’t exactly look like he wanted to try such a thing, but at the same Time, like he was desperate for just about anything to Soothe his aggravated throat. It was a fine Balance between helping and hurting him, but luckily for him, his best friend’s wife was pretty good at figuring out such Balances.

It wasn’t long before she came over to the couch with a steaming mug in her hands, a spoon holding something down into the bottom of it. Setting it on the coffee table in front of them, she told him to give it a few minutes before he actually tried to drink it. Not only did it need to steep a bit, but it was hot enough to make him feel even worse by scalding his mouth and throat with the first sip.

Once deemed cool enough, the mug was handed to him, and Bret almost immediately felt his sinuses open up a hair just from sniffing it. He was still a bit dubious about even trying it, but finally gave in since he could barely take a breath without his throat feeling like it was on Fire. Belle laughed as their manager shot them a curious look, obviously wondering just what was in that mug as he tentatively took a sip. She couldn’t help a grin as she told them it was just a blend of Peppermint and Chamomile tea, something she used when she was sick, herself. The Peppermint’d help open up his sinuses so he could breathe as much as the steam itself, and the Chamomile’d relax him and help him sleep so he could recover faster.

The middle-aged woman said that she’d really just put enough honey in it to give it a lil bit of flavor that wasn’t either of the herbs. Normally, she’d put enough that one couldn’t taste anything _but_ the honey, but she didn’t wanna aggravate his diabetes. He no doubt already felt miserable enough as it was, and besides, love or hate him, she didn’t wanna be the one responsible for landing him in the hospital. Bret shot her a thankful smile, gesturing for the nearby notepad as he raised the mug for another sip so he could scribble a note of thanks since he couldn’t talk.

“Don’t worry about it, Bret,” she told him. “If I was gonna kill ya, I’d have done it back in ’88.”

_I count myself lucky and thank God every Day that I wake up, then,_ the vocalist scribbled next, making everyone laugh.

“As damn well ya should, considering how crazy all of y’all–even my husbands–drove me back in the Day,” Belle laughed.

_I kinda wanna hear ya sing one of Poison’s songs, though,_ he wrote. _Bobby swears ya sound just like me, but I’ve never heardja sing a single note_.

“Oh, I can sing my ass off when I wanna,” the middle-aged woman assured him. “And I wouldn’t say I sound identical to ya–not on every song, that is.”

Bret couldn’t help cocking a brow curiously any more than Howie could.

“I can pull off _Let it Play_ and _Nothin’ but a Good Time,_ but I can’t do _Every Rose_ for shit unless I’m playing the bass riff,” she explained.

“We’ll figure that part out, though,” Bobby was quick to say. “If we gotta switch it out with something else, there’s still Time to.”

“Let’s get it figured out during Sound check, though, whenever _that_ happensta be,” Belle told them. “At least then, we’ll have the whole band in one spot and be able to get everyone’s opinions at the same Time.”

Neither of the present band members could really argue with that, both nodding their agreement since they knew the others were trying to catch a nap. They hadn’t really slept well due to their vocalist constantly waking them up with a barking cough, even though he couldn’t exactly help it. But instead of bitching, they’d just waited till they got to the hotel so they could grab naps–or at least try to, that is. If they were woken up before they were ready after a nearly sleepless Night, they’d all be cranky old Bears, and she wasn’t willing to deal with that more than she absolutely had to.


	28. Twenty-Seven

Sound check wasn’t till two the next afternoon, and Belle absolutely refused to prove her vocal abilities before then. Her older husband was the only one who knew she was psyching herself up for a couple of the songs in their setlist that were Power ballads more so than the others. Bobby and Duff both knew their shared wife was actually a Music Witch–hence the pet named he’d used at last Night’s show. The vast majority of her Power came out when Music was involved, but never more so than when she was actually singing.

Back when they’d first met, before they were brought back to 1988 by the Morrígan, they’d gotten her to sing _Every Rose_ for them. The amount of Emotion that she was able to dump into her rendition of that song outdid even Bret, which was a bit hard to believe. After all, he’d written it upon finding out an ex-girlfriend was cheating on him in the middle of their first serious tour, so it was pretty Emotional to Begin with.

It was then that the now-middle-aged woman admitted that she could channel and even augment Emotions not necessarily her own. Sometimes that happened without her even meaning for it to, especially when she was able to put herself in that person’s shoes. When it came to _Every Rose,_ she thought back on shit like relationships gone wrong far too soon, but also something far more personal. It’d taken her a while, but she’d finally admitted that her beloved pappaw’s name was also Robert, and that she’d always called him Bob. To her, she’d to give up one man named Robert whom she’d loved dearly in order to gain another that she loved equally, just for different reasons.

Therein laid how that song drove home a Truth she’d known for Years, but hadn’t wanted to admit before then. Belle felt that the Rose in her Life was in having Love she’d never thought she’d find–the thorn in it was losing her pappaw to gain one of her husbands. Said husband hadn’t been able to help the tears that’d welled up when she’d revealed that, especially when she admitted that even his middle name was painful for her. Her pappaw’s middle initial was also _H,_ but while it didn’t stand for _Harold_ or _Harry,_ the older bassist’s middle name still tied back to her pappaw a lil too much.

“Whaddaya mean by that, though?” Rikki asked.

She’d been explaining all of that to the rest of Poison now since they could tell she was _in a mood,_ as her family said.

“My pappaw’s middle name was Howard,” the middle-aged woman explained. “But he’d a _brother_ named Harold.”

Four pairs of blue eyes widened as Bobby wrapped his arms around her, even the girls joining in on the hug he gave her.

“I never knew Uncle Harold–he died before I was born,” Belle continued. “But _Harry_ still makes me think of Daddy since that connection can still be made.”

“Wait, _Daddy?”_ Richie asked, looking confused.

“Like me, her grampa was more like her dad growing up,” the older bassist explained, sensing that his wife was clamming up on them. “But she didn’t realize just how much so till it was too late any more than I did.”

“The last Time I got to touch him while he was still alive…I was wrapping an arm around his shoulders, leaning down so I could whisper in his ear, _Happy birthday, ol’ man,”_ she said, barely biting back a sob. “If I’d known he was gonna be gone the very next Day…”

“It’s all right, sugar,” he whispered, dropping into a chair so he could pull her into his lap.

The rest of Poison were shocked by such an open display of Emotion from her, considering what a hard-nosed bitch she usually was. Well, they’d known she’d a soft, tender heart buried somewhere deep inside–they just hadn’t ever known exactly how soft and tender it really was. Course, she hadn’t wanted them to realize just how much she truly cared, ’cuz as she’d said for decades, she often cared too much.

After managing to regain her composure so she wouldn’t wind up congested and unable to sing worth a shit, the middle-aged woman turned her attention back to the band. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she looked Bret dead in the eye as she said that they wouldn’t have to worry about provoking certain Emotions outta her during _Something to Believe In_. If there was any song besides _Every Rose_ she could manage to do that well enough on her on for, it was that song. Part of her didn’t wanna admit why, but another part didn’t mind doing so–but only _after_ they’d run through it during Sound check.

“Ya ready, girls?” the drummer asked from his kit.

“Count us in, Rik,” Belle answered once both girls nodded from where they were seated at the piano.

Returning the nod, he counted Zeph and Gypsi in, smiling as they started their dad’s piano riff as flawlessly as they’d done the Night before.

 _“Well, I…see him on the TV, preachin’ ’bout the promised Lands… He tells me to believe in Jesus and steals the money from my hands… Some say he was a good man_ – _but Lord, I think he sinned, yeah, yeah…”_ the middle-aged woman sang once her cue’d arrived.

Bobby couldn’t help looking over at his wife as his hands moved on autopilot, knowing this next part was even harder for her to get through.

 _“Twenty-two Years of mental tears, cries a suicidal Vietnam vet, who fought a losin’ War on a foreign Shore to find his country didn’t want him back,”_ she continued, different memories haunting her. _“Their bullets took his best friend in Saigon_ – _our lawyers took his wife, his kids, no regrets, in a Time I don’t remember, in a War he can’t forget… He cried, Forgive me for what I’ve done there, ’cuz I never meant the things I did…and gimme somethin’ to believe in, if there’s a Lord above… Ah, gimme somethin’ to believe in_ – _oh, Lord, arise…”_

At this point, even Richie couldn’t ignore the amount of Emotion he heard her pouring into her vocals, and he almost called an End to the song. Only the older brunette shaking his head from his right stopped him, said man mouthing that it was best to let her keep going once she got on a roll. Even if it seemed like she was about to burst into tears, if they tried to stop her right now, they’d only wind up living to regret it.

 _“My best friend died a lonely man in some Palm Springs hotel room… I got the call last Christmas Eve, and they told me the news…”_ Belle sang, still sounding far more Emotional than the vocalist ever had. _“I tried all Night not to break down and cry as the tears rolled down my face_ – _I felt so cold and empty, like a lost Soul out of place… And the Mirror, Mirror on the wall sees my smile_ – _it fades again!”_

Even CC was starting to worry about the middle-aged woman as they moved to repeat the chorus again, knowing damn good and well a human shouldn’t be able to sing with that level of Emotion, but not break down in the middle of the song. Still, Bobby wouldn’t let his band try to stop her, ’cuz he knew how cathartic doing this kinda thing to herself could actually be for her. It made her open up and let out shit she’d bottled up, whether she realized she had or not, which often kept her from sinking into a figurative hole. Any pain she felt from doing it’d eventually fade, and she’d essentially rise like a Phoenix from its own ashes, so to speak.

 _“I drive by the homeless, sleepin’ on a cold, Dark street, like bodies in an open grave…underneath the broken ol’ neon sign that used to read_ Jesus saves,” she sang after the guitar solo died away into really no more than the piano riff.

The rest of the band kicked up the Music again as she took another breath, the sadness on her face suddenly mixing with something that looked like pure Rage.

 _“A mile away live the rich folk, and I see how they’re livin’ it up… While the poor, they eat from hand-to-mouth, the rich is drinkin’ from a Golden cup_ – _and it just makes me wonder why so many lose, so few win! Ha!”_

 _“Gimme somethin’ to believe in,”_ Rikki and CC sang, flawlessly playing as they worked their way toward the outro.

 _“You take the high road, and I’ll take the low road,”_ Bobby and Richie sang in the background as she repeated the chorus once before just sticking with the second half of it.

_“Yeah, sometimes I Wish I didn’t know now the things I didn’t know then…yeah… And give me somethin’ to believe in, yeah, yeah.”_

Bobby was quick to hand his bass off to whoever was closest, the Music having died away by that point so that he didn’t really need to hang on to it aside from not wanting to drop it. He’d crossed the stage they were on in two strides, catching his wife and hauling her against his torso as she seemingly passed out. Course, it wasn’t that she’d passed out at all–it was that the memories this song dredged up for her made her pour out so much Power all at once that she needed a bit to recover.

The rest of the guys were startled and more than a bit terrified as even Zeph and Gypsi abandoned the piano to run over to them. It wasn’t very often that Belle let out her Emotions quite that hard, and they were all worried about her to no End. Being completely honest with themselves, they’d have sworn it was almost like somebody’d hit them in the head with a hammer through the entire song.

Once she’d managed to compose herself, the older bassist pulled back just enough to see her face before leaning down to give her a sound kiss. Even as she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, he reminded her that he was her shelter in the Storm, her rock to lean on, whenever she needed it. He’d meant that to the very marrow of his bones the Day he’d told her that as part of his handfasting vows, and that remained true to this Day. Nothing’d ever Change him feeling that way, and he knew the same was true for Duff–who woulda been joining their group-hug, too, if he’d been here.

“Ya all right, Belle?” Rikki asked, gently rubbing her back.

“I’ll be fine,” she answered, nodding. “Especially if Bobby snags one of those Flower pots for me.”

“Huh?” The lead guitarist looked confused as he handed his guitar to his tech.

“Witchy trick, C,” Belle managed to chuckle. “It’ll help me get my head on straight again and be able to pour out that level of Emotion tonight, just without collapsing afterward.”

“Been a while since ya Grounded and Centered, huh?” the older bassist chuckled, doing as she asked without her having to say it twice.

“Unfortunately,” the middle-aged woman answered, nodding. “That’s just the Life of a busy mama sometimes, though.”

“Too well I know it,” Bobby agreed, settling the Flower pot where she could just sit on his amp stack and still reach it.

“All right, whaddaya mean by _Grounded and Centered?”_ It was the younger bassist who finally asked what was on the rest of the band’s minds.

 _“Grounding_ is basically reconnecting my Energy with that of the Earth and feeding off it, kinda like plants feed off it through their roots,” Belle explained. _“Centering_ is basically dragging my own Energy back in from all the various places it could be scattered right now.”

“Trust me, it’ll definitely help her,” her husband said. “You’ll see the difference as much as feel it once she gets her bare feet stuck in this Flower pot.”

As his wife was kicking her boots off to do just that, he explained how using this Flower pot served the same purpose as going outside and standing in the grass barefoot. Dirt came from the Earth, regardless of where it was and what form it took–that even included Sand at the Beach and out in the Desert. By sticking her bare feet in it, that allowed her to reconnect with the Earth as if she were standing in grass, Sand, or even in a pile of fallen leaves.

Watching as she seemed to fade away in a mental sense, Bobby chuckled softly and pulled the guys across the stage to where they wouldn’t disturb her. He explained that once her eyes slipped shut, they couldn’t do anything to jolt her, ’cuz that might rip her outta the trance she’d put herself into in a way her mind couldn’t handle. Meditation already didn’t come very easily to her, and the few Times she actually did it–like right now–it was harder for her to manage than most people. But he saw no reason to leave them confused when pulling them outta earshot and continuing his explanation worked just as well.

“The meditation comes in as she’s Centering more than anything,” he explained, the girls settled on either side of him where they sat at the edge of the stage.

“I’m kinda curious as to how,” Richie admitted, looking thoughtful as he cocked his head.

“The way she taught me–Visualize yourself surrounded by nothing but blackness, like you’re in some kinda Deep Space void that doesn’t even have any Stars,” the older bassist said. “From there, ya Visualize a lil pinprick of white, which’s supposed to grow bigger as you’re dragging your Energy back in.”

Even Bret looked thoughtful at that point, and he was definitely curious, judging by his gesture for him to continue.

“That Light’ll keep growing for as long as ya make it, till it essentially explodes and washes over ya,” Bobby told them. “As it dims, ya basically pull your Energy back into your core to hold there till you’ve a need to send it out again.”

“Sounds…peaceful, actually,” the drummer said with a short, thoughtful pause.

“Kinda makes me wanna try it for myself,” CC agreed. “And I’ve always thought myself a Christian man as much as the rest of ya.”

“Man, I haven’t been Christian in Years!” he laughed, careful to keep his volume down as he glanced back over at his wife. “It took about a Year after I met her, but I slowly converted to Paganism as I learned more about it–I just don’t admit that publicly.”

The others’ gazes followed his, and they couldn’t help a gasp as they watched Belle suddenly straighten till her back was arched like she’d just sprouted wings or something. Bobby chuckled and told them she always did that when that Light finally exploded and washed over her within her mind. It meant that she was now in the process of actually dragging her Energy back into her core, and that she’d be done with her lil Spiritual exercise in the next few minutes. After she was done with that Flower pot, he was actually gonna take his own turn, ’cuz after the Insanity of a tour, he felt he could use it. It wasn’t like he’d gotten a chanceta do such a thing up to this point, and he was willing to take the chance while it was available.

After a couple minutes, the middle-aged woman slowly slumped like she was exhausted before straightening again. However, her eyes slowly opened as she straightened this Time, those Chocolate orbs looking clear and reenergized in a way they’d never seen before. Pushing himself to his feet, he headed over to check in with her, unable to help a soft laugh as he stole a quick kiss while kicking his own boots off. During that kiss, she couldn’t help an almost girlish giggle as she realized what he was up to and hopped down off his amp stack.

Once he ass was settled on it and his feet buried to his ankles, Bobby blocked out everyone and everything around him. Allowing himself to slip into a trance of his own, his eyesta lost focus as much as his shared wife’s had before they simply slipped shut. The guys watched him as he seemingly slumped like he’d fallen asleep, his head tilted down so his chin rested on his chest. He soon started to slowly straighten, his wife telling them he was nowhere near done since his eyes were still closed like he was asleep. Nodding, they simply watched as he straightened till his back was arched like hers’d been, his head now thrown back.

None of the guys could deny practically feeling the Energetic shift as that Light he’d been talking about exploded and washed over him in an identical manner. It was almost like a Charge in the very Air that could be felt as much as the solidity of the stage under their hands and asses. But that Charge seemed to slowly fade away and die as he reeled his Energy back into himself just like she’d done a few minutes ago.

As he slowly straightened and lifted his head again, his eyes slowly peeling open this Time, the older bassist almost seemed to glow. Belle laughed when his younger successor said that, telling him that he was actually most likely seeing his Aura–and if not his actual Aura, then the Aura field that surrounded even that. There was a difference between the two, and those who were inexperienced at such a thing often got the two mixed up till they managed to get enough practice. However, that was one of many things that one’d get better at, the more they practiced it, just like when learning how to play an instrument. She couldn’t do that kinda thing for any of them any more than she could her kids and husbands, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t figure it out eventually, if they tried.

“Can _you_ see Auras?” Rikki asked as they Silently agreed that Sound check was over.

“When I wanna and focus enough,” she answered, nodding. “It’s kinda like meditating since you’ve really gotta focusta be able to do it.”

“Whaddaya mean by that?” the lead guitarist asked after sharing a look with Bret, who was the one who’d wanted to ask her.

“It’s kinda like meditating or Scrying in that it comes easy to some, not to so much to others,” Belle explained. “If anyone’s squirreled away a Candle somewhere, it’ll be easier to show rather than tell.”

“I’ve my lighter, if that’ll work,” the drummer offered, digging in his pocket.

“I’d rather it be a Candle,” the middle-aged woman chuckled. “That’ll cut down on the chances of anyone getting burnt since Scrying usually takes a few minutes.”

 _“Ahhhh.”_ Richie and the trio of blondes nodded as Howie walked up.

“Best I could do on short notice when I heardja ask,” he chuckled as he handed over a white taper.

“It’ll work well enough,” she said, nodding her thanks as she took the holder he held out next, which she settled on the salad plate she was also handed.

Even the manager settled with the group as she took the Zippo that Rikki handed her.

“If anyone’s any questions, ask ’em now,” Belle told them. “And I don’t mean shit like what am I doing, or when’re ya gonna hit the lottery.”

“I think we hit the lottery just by making this band stay afloat as long as it has,” the lead guitarist laughed.

It was the younger bassist who finally posed a question to her as she flipped open the lid of the lighter with a dexterity only Bobby’d seen before. He didn’t particularly like asking this question, both ’cuz it was incredibly personal and ’cuz part of him still didn’t wanna know the answer to it. Still, he felt like it _had_ to be asked, or he was gonna drive himself nuts by wondering, and none of them needed or wanted that–especially in the middle of a tour.

Nodding as he asked whether he and his girlfriend were gonna last, ’cuz things between them didn’t feel the same as after they’d first gotten together, the middle-aged woman struck the wheel on the Flint. Holding the Flame it produced to the Candle, she waited for the wick to catch before pulling it back and flipping the lid shut to snuff it out.

As she reached out to hand the lighter back to its owner, Belle told them they were more than welcome to try Scrying alongside her, but didn’t guarantee any of them’d See anything. The way they were gonna do that now was by staring into the Flame of the burning Candle, but not with a hard stare. Cocking their brows, they weren’t too sure what she meant by that and wound up getting a surprise when they glanced up at her older husband. Said brunette sat behind her so her hips were nestled between his legs, said legs crossed so his ankles rested in her lap and his arms wrapped around her waist. His chin rested on her shoulder, and he didn’t so much as blink as he looked like he’d completely zoned out on them.

The middle-aged woman told them to let their gazes soften so their vision turned blurry like he’d already done, himself. Doing that’d allow them to start slipping into a meditative trance, and once in that kinda state, they might actually stand a chance of Seeing something. When she said _Seeing,_ she meant having a Vision kinda like Native Americans sought out when they went on one of their Vision Quests. Another good way to describe it was like the Visions a lotta psychic Mediums–the genuine ones, that is–had, both when they asked specific questions and unbidden.

“Huh,” Rikki huffed as she focused her attention on the small, but dancing Flame before her. “Sounds kinda hokey, but hey, why not?”

“Everything Christian sounds hokey to me, so we’re even,” Belle chuckled, starting to sound distracted as she slipped into the same kinda trance.

“Fair enough,” CC agreed with a chuckle of his own.

“Be quiet so Mama and Daddy can actually focus,” the girls giggled, careful to keep their volume down. “Talking keeps ’em from having those Visions.”

Nodding her agreement, she tuned out all else around her, allowing herself to slip completely into that trance she’d been talking about. Bobby was still as a statue where he sat behind her, the others barely able to tell he was even still breathing ’cuz of how he didn’t move a muscle. Only seeing his shoulders rise slightly with every breath he took and the pulse making his throat twitch right next to his jaw when he finally readjusted his head slightly reassured them that he wasn’t dead.

Even Richie focused his attention on the Flame before him, deciding it was worth a shot to actually try this Scrying thing. The worst that’d happen was that he wouldn’t actually See anything, but if he did, they could compare notes once they came outta their trances, as it were. He honestly wasn’t expecting anyone but those more experienced at this particular Craft to get anything, so he was surprised when he Saw a scene start playing out.

Right before his eyes, he saw himself and his current girlfriend in the midst of an argument over Hell-only-knew what. Eventually, the argument died away and faded into a completely different scene, wherein they were able to part ways amicably. It was pretty obvious that they were no longer a couple at that point, but at least they were able to break up without wanting to slaughter each other. That was certainly a far cry from the divorce he’d gone through with Deanna back in 1998, and knowing that actually brought a bit of a smile to his face as he continued to watch.

“Whoa,” somebody breathed moments later.

Belle wasn’t sure if all of the others were Seeing what she was, or if they were Seeing anything at all as she kept her attention on that dancing Flame. She knew damn good and well her husband was, if only ’cuz she could feel him feeding off her as much as she was feeding off him. That often happened when they’d sit down to Scry together, and it happened with Duff when she’d Scry with him, too. It happened most often when they’d Scry as a group, thus combining mostly the Powers of Fire and Air with a bit from Water. The older bassist even brought a lil bit of Earth into the mix, too, allowing them to cover all four of the Earthly Elements between them. Given that that made their Visions a lot stronger, she knew it was a distinct possibility no one but them was Seeing what was playing out right now.

Moments later, once she felt the Vision was about to start fading away, she allowed herself to start coming back outta her trance. Bobby squirmed behind her, his movements a bit restless like his ass was going numb from sitting in a weird position or something. She couldn’t help a soft giggle as that made her squirm a bit, his legs unwrapping from around her so they were stretched out in front of them. As he slowly came back to Reality alongside her, she turned her attention up to the trio of blondes and the younger brunette that were still sitting across from them. They were all wearing surprised looks that held quite the bit of Awe, which told her they’d to’ve Seen at least bits of pieces of what she’d seen.

A gentle smile curved her lips as Richie turned those Sea-blue eyes up at her, his own lips forming a pink _O_ of surprise, and she knew she was about to be bombarded by questions.


	29. Twenty-Eight

After essentially comparing notes on the collective Vision even CC’d had about Richie’s Future–well, when it came to his Love Life, that is–everybody decided it was best to head backstage. It was Ratt’s turn at making it through Sound check without wanting to kill each other, and they could all use a chanceta just relax. Everybody agreed that Belle could really stand a chanceta relax before the show that Night, considering the amount of Emotion she’d poured out on that lone song they’d run through.

Settled in the dressing room they’d been assigned, the middle-aged woman wasn’t surprised when Bret snatched up the nearest notepad and started scribbling. He was just lucky she could read even his handwriting, which resembled a doctor’s more than it didn’t, especially when he was writing as fast as he was right now. Once she’d read the hastily-scribbled note, she couldn’t help letting out the deep breath she’d taken in a heavy sigh, even as a smile crossed her face. Part of her’d known this question was gonna get asked, and she’d figured it’d be the vocalist who eventually asked it.

“It’s not exactly something I’ve Control over,” she said by way of Beginning her explanation. “I’m what’s called a Music Witch, so really it…just happens.”

“Wait, what’d he ask?” CC asked, looking as lost as all but Bobby and the girls did.

“He asked me how on Earth I’m able to pour out that kinda Emotion seemingly so effortlessly,” Belle chuckled, leaning back against her husband.

“Then what’s a Music Witch?” the drummer asked.

“A Music Witch’s a type of Witch that can empower their spells when they’re sung or otherwise performed like a song,” she explained. “Music also has a far more profound effect on ’em than it does any other type of Witch, or even a non-Witch.”

“Her Power’s at its strongest during a Storm since she’s also an Air Witch, but it comes out the most when Music’s involved–especially when she’s singing,” Bobby added.

They paused long enough to crack open their Water bottles, which gave the rest of the guys a few momentsta process that. It took them a few moments, but they soon realized that musta been why they’d felt like they’d gotten cracked in the head throughout their short Sound check. Laughing once Rikki told her that, the middle-aged woman admitted that that was most likely the case, ’cuz her husbands’d said that plenty of Times.

“I’m also what’s called a Projector,” she told them. “Ever heard of an Empath?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of them,” Richie answered, nodding. “They tend to feel the Emotions of others, right?”

“Well, not _just_ that,” Belle said. “They tend to feel the Emotions of others as if they’re _their own,_ but they also have a tendency of being Energetic kitchen sponges, for lack of a better way to put it.”

“All right, that makes sense–kinda,” the lead guitarist mused, nodding.

“Well, Projectors’re their polar opposite,” the middle-aged woman explained. “We’re the ones who can send out Energy like it’s nothing, often when we don’t even mean to.”

“Like, remember the Times she wouldn’t seem pissed, if ya went by her expression, but you’d feel like somebody wanted to go on a homicidal rampage outta nowhere?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah, and it’s a scary feeling,” the younger bassist chuckled.

“Ya were feeling _her_ Rage when she was pissed and Projecting–hard,” he laughed. “That’s how Duff and I know we _really_ need to leave her alone, even when we’re worried sick about her, though. Her Emotions can get extreme like that, but once they get to the point of us having an Empathic moment–well, it’s a really bad idea to keep pushing her at that point.”

As the rest of the guys nodded their Understanding, Bret hunched over his notepad again as he scribbled out something else. Taking it once it was held out to her again, Belle quickly read what he’d written, and she wasn’t any more surprised by that question than she was by the first. She held it back out to him as she looked back up, forced to take another deep breath as she formed her answer into something that hopefully made sense. It was an answer she’d only told her husbands ever since meeting them–not even her mother’d known this before all the Time Travel business.

“I tap into my Paganism for the first half of the first verse,” she told him. “’Cuz when ya look back at history and _don’t_ think about it like a Warmonger, Christianity’s done more harm than good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” CC asked, looking offended and confused.

“It started with the Catholic church basically telling Pagansta convert or die,” the middle-aged woman answered. “That’s why I say that, historically-speaking, it’s your cross that’s instilled more Fear than my Pentacle ever has.”

All of the guys aside from her older husband wore a thoughtful look as they pondered her words, which gave her a moment to compose herself.

“The part about the Vietnam vet–no matter who it was…” Belle said, unable to help a sigh as said husband hugged her a bit tighter from where he sat behind her. “I just put Daddy in those shoes.”

Even the vocalist looked confused, not bothering to scribble out another note as they waited.

“Daddy served over in Vietnam–I think it was from ’65 to ’67, but I might have the Years off a bit,” she said. “Looking back on his Life, I’ve no doubt that he was affected more than he ever said he was when I was a kid–and I don’t mean by the _Agent Orange_ that I’m sure played a role in his Death.”

“Pretty much everyone was, I think,” Rikki told her, reaching over to gently squeeze her knee.

“Well, while he might not’ve ever gone through quite the same things as whoever Inspired that part of the verse, all I’ve to do is imagine what it woulda been like, if he _had,”_ the middle-aged woman told them.

_What about the second verse, where I mentioned my best friend’s Death?_ Bret scribbled out before handing the notepad to her.

Handing it back once she’d read his question, Belle explained how–as far as she was concerned–a former best friend of her own’d died a long Time before she’d met her husbands. They’d met as dumbass sixteen-Year-olds due to being put in the same World history class in high school, and they’d stayed friends on and off for nearly a decade afterward.

But she clearly remembered a Night in December of 2010 that he’d called her, easily around two in the Morn, ’cuz he’d known she was his only friend that’d answer at that Time of Night. She’d spent hours on the phone with him, even to the point of having to keep her phone on the charger for the majority of that Time so it wouldn’t go dead. In the hours she spent on the phone with him, she’d talked him down from taking the Colt .45 his stepdad gave him outta the top of his closet and making _brain-ffiti,_ as she called it. Her Prime argument was that he might have things like a wife and at least a single kid in his Future–but he wouldn’t know, if he took himself outta the equation so soon.

Looking back on that Night, though, the middle-aged woman swore up and down that her best friend as she’d known him’d died that Night. While it mighta been in his bedroom, rather than a hotel room, he’d still been a lonely man all the same, and it tore her heart out to think about it. After that Night, he’d never been the same, and things’d only gotten worse when he’d met the woman that’d wind up becoming his own ex-wife. She quite literally didn’t recognize him anymore, and that was part of why their friendship’d Ended like it had.

Not even Bobby could help a wince at how choked-up she sounded, Zeph and Gypsi once again joining the hug he was giving her. A small smile crossed Belle’s face as she pulled the girls against her sides, not really paying attention to the weight of her husband’s arms once he moved them to drape around her shoulders. This was part of the reason why she didn’t talk about certain things very often, and when she did, it wasn’t normally with the kids present. Even though she wanted them to know she was a strong woman who’d the grit to get through just about anything, she didn’t want them knowing _how_ she’d acquired that Strength.

“You’ve definitely been through a lot more than ya let on,” Richie finally said. “Even if a lotta it was _before_ what I’m sure was the weirdest experience of your Life.”

“I purposely don’t talk about this shit in front of the kids,” she told them. “Knowing their mama’s a helluva strong woman’s one thing–know the how and why’s a totally different one.”

“You’re not suicidal, though, are ya?” the drummer asked, a worried look marring his face.

“Not anymore,” Belle answered, shaking her head. “I mean, I’ve my moments that I get down-in-the-dumps, but that can be said about just about everybody at one point or another.”

“Even if she _was,_ Duff and I woulda forced her to get help by now,” the older bassist chuckled. “But all she really needsta remind her of what she once told her own friend is to see us and the kids, the smiles on our faces when we’re happy.”

“Hell, all I gotta do’s hear y’all breathe, and it cheers me up,” she laughed. “’Cuz like I once told my own mother, going back to 1988 with y’all was my reason to keep living. It was only if I’d stayed in 2018 with her that I woulda eventually done myself in–andja know why, too.”

“That, I do,” Bobby agreed Sagely. “I’ll fill the guys in later, though, as long as you’ll lemme.”

“Not in front of the girls till they’re at least sixteen,” the middle-aged woman told him. “They already don’t think very highly of Kat after what we told _all_ the kids once we finally told Zep about our Time Travel–we don’t need to be making that worse right now.”

He was quick to nod his agreement, saying that while they might get it in its entirety right now, it was still better to wait till they were a bit older. Besides, it was almost Time to start getting ready for the show, considering that there was a lotta folks who all needed to share the same facilities. Well, that was if she and said girls didn’t just go appropriate the bus for privacy, but that was more or less beside the point.

Bret couldn’t help the somewhat brooding mood he got into as he watched his band mates get ready, each of them taking turns in the adjoining bathroom. He’d known ever since that Portal’d opened up back in 1988 that there was a lot more to his best friend’s wife than she let on. She was just a hard one to read more often than not–harder than even himself or said older bassist could be, what with having Secretive bents of their own due to their Zodiac signs. If anyone took that particular personality trait to a whole new level, it was this woman–and only her husbands’d come closeta figuring out why in all these Years.

Once they’d stormed the stage, the vocalist watching from sidestage behind the curtain, Belle let out a side of herself that few got to see. She was essentially in full-on party mode, just without needing a metric fuck-ton of alcohol to get herself there. There was a certain Light radiating from her eyes as she worked her way through the first five songs, the covers all switched out for original songs she actually knew, that no one could replicate, if they tried.

During the break they took for CC’s guitar solo, Bobby gently grabbed her by the waist as she started psyching herself up for the next song. He even leaned down as she rose up on tiptoe slightly like they were about to share a backstage kiss, her hands reaching up to grab his shoulders. Almost everyone–even the techs–were surprised when they merely leaned toward each other so their foreheads were pressed together. Their breathing slowed and evened out so it fell into the exact same rhythm, and they could all feel the sudden Change in the Air around them. If they’d to even try defining what they were witnessing, they’d say he was empowering her, giving her the Strength to get through that song, by letting her feed off him in a way.

“Ya ready, sugar?” the older bassist asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Belle answered with a nod. “Just don’t be surprised if I shoot up to that higher key I usually use at home.”

“Hey, as long as it still fits with the Music,” he laughed.

“I’m not _that_ bad of a vocalist!” the middle-aged woman retorted, swatting him across the ass.

“I never saidja were,” Bobby told her. “But it’s not gonna sound right, if it’s not at least in the key we’re playing in, even if it’s an octave higher or something.”

She responded by merely swatting him across the ass again, the grin on her face belying any true malice as they headed back onto the stage.

“Everybody ready to get a bit deep?” Richie asked once he was in front of his mic.

The crowd erupted into a round of cheers and applause, even as Belle readjusted the mic she was using.

“Then help us welcome two more lovely lil ladiesta the stage!” the lead guitarist said.

Zeph and Gypsi giggled, waving to the crowd as they darted out to take their places.

Rikki waited till they were seated so the slightly older girl was at the bass End of the piano, her sister settled next to her at the treble End. Once they glanced up at him with a joint nod, he counted them in as they turned their attention back to the instrument before them. The entire band smiled slightly as they started plunking out that piano riff again, their daddy looking more than a lil proud of them as he waited for his cue. But they were all quick to shoot supportive smiles to the woman fronting them tonight, which earned them a thankful smile in Return as she took a deep breath.

_“Well, I…see him on the TV, preachin’ ’bout the promised Lands… He tells me to believe in Jesus and steals the money from my hands… Some say he was a good man_ – _but Lord, I think he sinned, yeah, yeah…”_ the middle-aged woman sang once her cue’d arrived.

CC picked out his short intro, which almost sounded kinda like bluegrass or something to her, before the rest of the band joined him.

_“Twenty-two Years of mental tears, cries a suicidal Vietnam vet, who fought a losin’ War on a foreign Shore to find his country didn’t want him back,”_ she continued, this Time only drawing on memories of her pappaw just enough to make her brow furrow.

Even Bret couldn’t help a saddened smile from where he watched, and not ’cuz he Wished he coulda been out there with his band instead.

_“Their bullets took his best friend in Saigon_ – _our lawyers took his wife, his kids, no regrets, in a Time I don’t remember, in a War he can’t forget… He cried, Forgive me for what I’ve done there, ’cuz I never meant the things I did…and gimme somethin’ to believe in, if there’s a Lord above… Ah, gimme somethin’ to believe in_ – _oh, Lord, arise…”_

The older bassist was quick to move so he could butt himself up against her, never missing a beat even as he smiled when she leaned against him for a moment.

_“My best friend died a lonely man in some Palm Springs hotel room… I got the call last Christmas Eve, and they told me the news…”_ Belle sang, grateful for her husband’s physical and Emotional support as she forced herself to straighten again. _“I tried all Night not to break down and cry as the tears rolled down my face_ – _I felt so cold and empty, like a lost Soul out of place… And the Mirror, Mirror on the wall sees my smile_ – _it fades again!”_

This Time, she poured out a raw Power that took even the crowd by surprise as they repeated the chorus, then fell Silent for CC’s squealing solo. At this point, even Richie’d moved a bit closer to her, as if ready to catch her with his own body, given what they’d all seen End Sound check earlier. She shot him a thankful smile, which he Returned as he continued playing the rhythm riff his vocalist normally played. Having such support from band members she hadn’t exactly been close with meant more than she could say as she got ready to dive into the final verse.

_“I drive by the homeless, sleepin’ on a cold, Dark street, like bodies in an open grave…underneath the broken ol’ neon sign that used to read_ Jesus saves,” the middle-aged woman sang after the guitar solo died away into really no more than the piano riff.

The rest of the band kicked up the Music again as she took another breath, the sadness on her face mixing with what looked like pure Rage again.

_“A mile away live the rich folk, and I see how they’re livin’ it up… While the poor, they eat from hand-to-mouth, the rich is drinkin’ from a Golden cup_ – _and it just makes me wonder why so many lose, so few win! Ha!”_

_“Gimme somethin’ to believe in,”_ Rikki and CC sang, still playing flawlessly as they worked their way toward the outro.

_“You take the high road, and I’ll take the low road,”_ Bobby and Richie sang in the background as she repeated the chorus once before just sticking with the second half of it.

_“Yeah, sometimes I Wish I didn’t know now the things I didn’t know then…yeah… And give me somethin’ to believe in, yeah, yeah.”_

Belle allowed her head to bow so that her chin rested on her chest as that final note died away, the Lights momentarily going down. The crowd erupted in applause the likes of which they hadn’t given since the show started, and she took that as getting their approval. She hadn’t set out to upstage Bret by any means, but if she’d managed to do him Justice–well, that couldn’t possibly be a bad thing.

The rest of the show passed by almost effortlessly, even when they switched out _Unskinny Bop_ for _Let it Play_. Bobby’d thought they weren’t supposed to be playing that one, but he’d been proven wrong after another look over their planned setlist after Sound check. Luckily for all of them, the song they swapped it out for came back to all of them pretty quickly, so they didn’t really even have to stumble through it. And just like he’d sworn when he’d run his idea past his band the Day previous, his wife sounded damn near identical to their vocalist on it.

As they rounded out their show with _Nothin’ but a Good Time_ as an encore again, they all hoped that the remainder of the tour went as well as tonight did. More than anything, though, they hoped that Bret’s voice came back sooner, rather than later so he could at least talk. They could all tell he was already getting fed up with writing notes, but they really wanted him to be able to join them again. A new normal’d been formed that Summer, and they were all eager to get back to it and take the pressure off Belle.


	30. Twenty-Nine

A week later, the tour was pulling into the venue they were playing in Syracuse, New York, the entirety of all the bands on the roster currently knocked out cold. They’d three shows in a row without a Day off starting with that show in Vegas, and pretty much the only reason they’d a couple Days off this week was due to Traveling from one venue to the next. Everybody was exhausted, but it seemed the girls definitely were, considering they hadn’t needed an afternoon nap in at least a couple Years, yet wound up taking one just about every Day this week.

In his bunk right over Richie’s head, Bobby was curled up so his wife’s rump filled the curve of his pelvis, his arm wrapped around her waist and his nose buried in her hair. She’d been quick to put the kibosh on bus sex, no matter how needy they both were, ’cuz she knew how they were without question. Whether at home or on the road, they were both way too noisy for that, and besides, she didn’t want voyeurs of any kind.

Left with no other choices, he’d settled for simply getting to cuddle with her at Night–or maybe more aptly, during the Day–and didn’t bother pushing her buttons. Even though he wouldn’t deny being a horny mother fucker, he didn’t feel like putting up with her temper when she was supposed to be saving their asses. She wouldn’t back down from the challenge and leave them hanging by any means, but she’d certainly make their Lives a living hell for the next week or so. Well, maybe she wouldn’t be quite as much of a bitch to the younger bassist, if he kept to himself like he’d been doing so far. If anything, he’d prolly be the one she locked herself in a room to socialize with, if she got pissed enough since she wouldn’t ever cheat.

Feeling the bus jolt as it finally came to a full stop, the older bassist let out a soft grunt as he squirmed slightly. He didn’t even pay any attention to how wonderful that soft, but toned ass felt against his Morn Wood since he knew he wouldn’t get any action right now. The only way that’d happen was if he started grinding on her and let her think he was still asleep till he actually got his rocks off. But Belle knew her husbands too well for either of them to pull that off, so his sleepy brain was quick to veto even _that_ idea.

“Lemme up, Zephie,” he heard a few moments later, those words quickly followed by a displeased whine. “Fine, I’ll just pee all over you.”

“Chu better not!” Zeph snapped, clearly bonking her head on their shared bunk when she sat up. “Ow!”

“Careful down there,” Richie chuckled underneath him. “I don’t think your parents’re gonna like having to take a trip to the ER for a busted noggin, girlie.”

“Not unless we’re going for our own busted noggins,” his wife grumbled as she stuck her head outta their curtain. “And even then, they better be caused by something like the stage Lights coming down on us, not ’cuz we sat up too fast and whacked ’em on our bunks.”

“I don’t think you’ve to worry about that, Mama,” Gypsi giggled as she headed off to the onboard bathroom. “One good whack oughta teach her not to do that anymore.”

“Gods know _you_ learned your lesson last week, huh?” she chuckled.

“Yeah, after the migraine doing that gave me,” the blonde girl laughed as she closed said bathroom door.

“Ready when you are, Belle,” the younger bassist said. He was now outta his bunk and waiting to catch her so she could let her husband up, but not bust her ass trying to get outta their bunk.

“Thanks, Rich,” Belle sighed, leaning forward to brace her hands on his shoulders.

“No need to thank me,” he told her, gently gripping her waist as he pretty much just let her slide down his front till her feet were on the floor.

Once his wife was safely outta their bunk, Bobby managed to roll over so he wouldn’t have to sit up when he slid out behind her. By this point, Richie’d stepped aside so he wouldn’t get hit or kicked, which gave him plenty of room to slide out. In fact, he’d knelt down to dig through his suitcase, no doubt so he wouldn’t have to see his ass–even with boxers on–when he dropped down.

Groaning as he stretched, the older bassist butted a shoulder up against the bunks as he waited for his wife and daughtersta take their turn in that linen closet they called a bathroom. The rest of the guys’d learned after the first Morn to let Zeph and Gypsi take their turns first, ’cuz the former in particular’d just keep clawing at the door till they finally switched out with her. Course, in being the youngest and having the smallest bladder, the couldn’t really blame her for that, if they weren’t quick enough to take their Morn piss before she woke up and managed to get outta the girls’ bunk.

After Belle’d emerged from taking her turn and he’d stolen a quick _good-Morn_ kiss, he scrambled in to take his own turn. He knew his younger successor was gonna be the next in line, and it was just gonna be a domino effect from there as the others woke up. Bret–who was finally starting to get his voice back a bit–was no doubt gonna have to piss the worst due to his diabetes. That meant that everyone tried to leave the bathroom open for him as much as they did for the brunette girl, ’cuz he went through so much more Water.

Walking outta the bathroom after taking his turn, Bobby couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face as the scent of coffee hit him like a brick. He quickly headed up to the front lounge, just about ready to start a game of tonsil-hockey with his wife in thanks for that. She knew both her husbands so well that she knew they were worthless without coffee, now that they’d given up smoking about a decade ago. And judging by how they often were, no doubt she’d figured out that most of the others were much the same way when they first woke up. Course, he couldn’t help a soft laugh at seeing the girls’ scrunched noses as they nursed small bottles of Pepsi instead.

“I still dunno how y’all drink that stuff,” Gypsi muttered, unscrewing the lid from her bottle.

“’Cuz is teh _Nectar of teh Gods,”_ her mother practically moaned as she stirred her mug.

“Smells ickeh,” Zeph said, sticking her tongue out.

“I thought the same thing till I was about Gypsi’s age, believe it or not,” she laughed, grabbing the half-and-half she’d somehow managed to acquire from the mini fridge. “It wasn’t till Kat gave me a sip of her Starbucks Italian roast–doctored up, of course–that I actually started liking it.”

“Oh, my Gods–that stuff’s awesome,” the older bassist groaned, moving to pour his own mug.

“When it’s doctored up, if ya ask me,” Belle said as his younger counterpart and Rikki joined them. “I dunno how y’all stand it black.”

“Must be a guy thing,” the drummer chuckled. “’Cuz I’ve never known a guy who liked sugar and half-and-half in his coffee that _wasn’t_ gay.”

“Must be, ’cuz Daddy was like that,” Belle admitted. “Drank it black damn near every Day till the Day he died, even though it was that instant shit.”

“Ugh, _instant_ coffee’s the one kind I don’t think _any_ of us’ll drink,” Richie grumbled, finally getting a chanceta pour his own mug. “Hell, I’d steal even _your_ mug before I drank that shit.”

“Watch it, Kotzen–them’s fightin’ words,” the middle-aged woman warned him with a grin. “Spilled milk ain’t nothin’ to cry over, but stealing or spilling my coffee might getcha stabbed.”

“She ain’t kidding, either,” her husband said as he raised his own mug. “That’s as bad as pissing her off while she’s pregnant, if it ain’t an accident.”

“Was Mama _really_ that bad while she was pregnant with us?” Gypsi asked, a curious look on her face.

Laughing as he settled on the couch with his mug, Bobby admitted that maybe she wasn’t quite _that_ bad, but he still remembered some unsavory moments from his wife’s pregnancy. His clearest memory was that Time she was pregnant with Zep, and had greeted him with the business End of a shotgun ’cuz she’d been home alone. Duff’d been out finishing up the _Appetite_ tour while he’d been on the _Flesh and Blood_ tour, if he remembered right, and she hadn’t been expecting either of them to come home for a while.

The girls’ eyes widened and their jaws dropped as they turned shocked looks on their mama, who couldn’t help a devious giggle as even the guys looked surprised. She told them to think back on what a rural area they’d lived in back in Tenn, then told them it wasn’t nearly as built-up when they’d first moved there in 1990. Given that particular reason, she’d always kept a weapon within arm’s reach, just in case she ever needed it.

However, Belle didn’t try to deny that she got pretty hormonal when she was pregnant, and that it’d almost seemed like she was bipolar for those nine-month periods. She told them that both her husbands’d been guilty of rolling out sleeping bags in the living room floor, or camping in the Tree line out back, ’cuz her mood swings could be so bad. The best description she could give even the rest of the band wasta think about how she got when she was just PMS’ing, then multiply it by at least ten. Aside from that, the only things that really made her moodier than that were when the Morn sickness was kicking her ass and a lack of sleep.

“No Wonder Bobby’d come back from a short break and actually be _glad_ to hit the road again,” Rikki laughed.

“Seriously,” the lead guitarist agreed. “Shannon scares me sometimes, but even _she’s_ not that moody, despite being pregnant.”

“Now imagine if ya were closer to Bobby’s size–or even Duff’s–so you’d several more inches in height and more like seventy-five pounds on me,” she snickered. “But yet, ya were scared of something my size that was at least seventy-five pounds lighter and significantly weaker till I got pissed to a certain point.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” they all laughed in unison.

“I think aside from Bobby, I’m usually the scariest mother fucker on this bus just ’cuz I’m typically so quiet,” the younger bassist chuckled. “But even _I’m_ scared of that, and don’t get anywhere near as bad.”

“Let’s put it this way, Duff once told me a story that I still find hard to believe, but I don’t put beneath her, either,” Bobby said.

“What story’s that, man?” the drummer asked.

“Before we started house-hunting and moved to Tenn, he told me about how he’d to hold her back from charging Axl at the _Hell House,”_ he explained, grinning. “Apparently, he’d walked in on her showering and refused to leave– _again_. She didn’t even care that she was stark-nekkid and about to go flying through an apartment full of horny pussy-hounds–she just went to take off and chase him down so she could clobber him with something.”

“’Cuz I was gonna bean him with a skillet, if I coulda gotten my hands on one,” Belle laughed. “Otherwise, I’d have just thrown the first hair dryer I could find at him again.”

“Ya know, looking at it like that, if that’s how Life was back then–well, I can’t say I blame ya for wanting to move across the country, man,” CC finally said. “God knows everything else going on back then wouldn’t have helped, either.”

It was his actual daughter who asked what the guitarist meant as she plopped down in his lap, which he’d known was coming. Taking another sip of his coffee and a deep breath, Bobby was more than glad to tell her that there was a reason the only one in the house who drank adult beverages was their mama. She looked as confused as her sister, both of them cocking their heads since they all co-owned the bar and were constantly coming up with new drinks for it.

Looking down at them, the older bassist explained what woulda happened to them, if they’d kept drinking and drugging after meeting Belle. Even the guys looked horrified at the mere Thought, Bret especially when it came to anything pancreatic since–as a diabetic–his own pancreas gave him hell. Now they realized why he’d been so vehement on _everyone_ cleaning their acts up, or simply quitting the band while he was ahead.

Nodding as even Richie seemed to get why he wouldn’t hang out with the vocalist when he was drinking, even now, he didn’t deny they were right. That, and saying that he’d already known about the wreck said vocalist was gonna get into in ’94 was why the End of the _Native Tongue_ tour’d been the last straw for him. He couldn’t stay involved with guys who didn’t seem to care about the warnings he tried to give them, especially when it was driving him to Return to his own dirty ways. Even owning a bar didn’t drive him to drink like they’d done those last couple tours, which said something since he was constantly around alcohol–especially when he actually tended the bar, itself.

Bobby couldn’t help flushing slightly when he caught the Awed and proud looks on Zeph’s and Gypsi’s faces, which was mirrored by their mother’s. He knew damn good and well that getting sober was already a feat that wasn’t easy for many, and that _staying_ sober was usually even harder. That was part of the reason he hadn’t gotten back in touch with his band for so long–not ’cuz he truly didn’t wanna, but ’cuz he didn’t want anything steering him off the Path he’d worked so hard to stay on. He didn’t know what he could or couldn’t be walking into, and he’d decided the risk wasn’t worth it during those thirteen Years.

“But that Creative itch–just wanting to do what I loved again–got to be too much,” the older bassist said. “Like I told Zeph when I was even considering getting back into the studio, that doesn’t mean I don’t love my friends and especially family anymore–it just means I’ve other things I love, too.”

“I’m sure getting the chanceta come out on the road with us helps them see that,” Richie chuckled. “God knows I’d to do that with Auggie one Time before she started school, as much as her mother hated it.”

“Yeah, it _does_ help a lil bit,” Gypsi admitted, nodding as she spoke for herself and her sister. “It’d prolly be a lil different, if it were my _actual_ dad instead of my half-dad, though.”

“No one ever said it wouldn’t, girlie,” the drummer laughed. “Kinda makes me glad I don’t have kids of my own, but at the same Time, I won’t deny being a lil jealous of your dads–even Bret, for that matter.”

Said vocalist managed a short chuckle before his voice cracked and went out again.

“Just give it Time, man,” the lone woman on the bus chuckled, rubbing his back when he frowned. “Trust me, I know how ya feel prolly better than anyone else.”

He couldn’t help cocking a brow at her.

“My voice’s been my instrument since long before I met Bobby and Duff,” Belle explained. “Yeah, I can play the bass riff to _Every Rose_ and part of the rhythm riff of a song that hasn’t come out yet, but that’s about it since flute doesn’t interest me anymore.”

“Wait, ya can play flute?” the lead guitarist asked as all their eyes widened.

“C and piccolo, given the difference,” she answered with a nod.

“I thought there was just _one_ type of flute,” Rikki mused, his brow furrowing.

Laughing, she explained that C flute was the most common type, and prolly the only one they were actually familiar with. It was the standard, two- or so foot-long flute that most’d at least heard of, if not seen when viewing a child’s band concert or something. A piccolo, on the other hand, was the shortest, highest-pitched member of the flute family, ’cuz those weren’t the only two.

Belle couldn’t help her grin as she said that there were actually twelve different types of flute, ranging from the piccolo she could play down to something called a hyperbass flute. Many shared a tuning with one of its siblings–such as the piccolo and standard flutes being two that were tuned to middle C. Various others–like the treble and alto flutes–were generally tuned to G, and not all of them looked very familiar. The easiest way for her to describe those was that while treble flute looked like a standard flute, it didn’t sound the same. Alto flute looked more akin to the bass flute, what with its J-shaped head joint that brought the _embouchure_ hole close enough to the player’s face for it to actually be played.

Now curious, even her husband–who hadn’t known she could play anything but that limited amount of guitar and bass–wanted to hear her. The middle-aged woman told them to be glad she’d even bothered packing either one of those particular instruments, just to give herself something to do when she was bored. Otherwise, they’d be waiting till they killed off the tour in about a week and a-half, ’cuz they’d have been left at home back in Arizona.

Disappearing into the bunk room, both ’cuz that’s where they were currently hidden and ’cuz it was soundproof, she told them to give her a few minutes. She’d to put it together before she could even think of playing it, not to mention rinse her mouth out and get warmed up. Bobby couldn’t help looking just as confused as his band, wondering why she’d have to rinse her mouth out, but shook his head when the lead guitarist started to ask her. He figured she’d explain once she Returned with the instrument in question, and if she didn’t, one of them could ask her then.

“So, whyddaya have to rinse your mouth out first?” Richie asked upon her Return. “’Cuz I admit that for all I’m practically a savant, I’m not familiar with Wind instruments.”

“And neither are we,” CC agreed as he gestured to himself and the others.

“’Cuz the sugar in my coffee’ll stick to the pads and make ’em sticky, not to mention cause ’em to break down over Time so that they don’t work right anymore,” she answered.

“Pads?” The drummer looked confused.

“Don’t try to pull ’em up, or you’ll break it, but look under the keys,” Belle laughed as she extended the Metal tube to him.

Taking it as if it were a baby, he did as she told him and saw what looked like something white under all of the keys down its body. _“Ahhhh,_ I see. I’m guessing that’s what seals off the holes when they’re pressed down so whatever note you’re going for actually sounds right?”

“Bingo,” the middle-aged woman answered. “And even though I’m not gonna be blowing straight into the hole, anything in my mouth still eventually makes its way down the body of the flute.”

“Makes sense,” CC mused, a thoughtful look on his face.

“I’m guessing the same’s true for just about any other Wind instrument?” her husband asked.

“Pretty much, even the reeded ones like clarinets,” she answered.

Finally finding what she’d been looking for on the laptop she’d also brought with her, Belle took her flute back once it’d been gingerly passed around the entire group. Looking up at Rikki, she told him that he was welcome to give her a beat to help her keep tempo, if he really wanted to. Cocking a brow, he wondered just what on Earth she meant and pushed himself up from where he’d settled on the floor so he could face her.

Settling on her other side so he could see, Rikki’s eyes widened when he realized she’d pulled up sheet Music for the piano part from _Something to Believe In_. He couldn’t help his wide-eyed look as he asked her if she could really manage to play that without giving away what it was, which made her laugh. The middle-aged woman admitted that it still wouldn’t sound quite right since, while she needed both handsta play, flutes didn’t have the same range as the instrument this part was originally written for. But even while doing something called transposing, she could get pretty damn close, considering the limitations she was working with.

Nodding, the drummer did what he did best and counted her in as she scooted to the edge of the couch cushion and straightened her spine. She wasn’t arching her back like she’d done while Grounding and Centering after that first Sound check with them, but she certainly wasn’t slouching, either. Once her flute was raised so it rested just beneath her bottom lip, her torso turned so its foot joint was aimed behind her husband’s head, she let out that deep breath she’d taken as she started playing.

Everyone sitting in the front lounge looked surprised at what they heard, completely ignoring their manager coming onto the bus. Even Bobby looked surprised as they watched her fingers move almost as fast as his did when he was playing this part as it’d originally been written, his band mate gently using her shoulders as a kit to keep her on-beat. They hadn’t been expecting such a thing when she swore up and down she could actually play a flute, and if they were honest, it was actually starting to give them an idea. It was something none of them’d thought of before, even back when this tune was originally written in 1990. Then again, none of them’d known she was a more musical person than she’d let on and could play something that didn’t involve strings.

“Holy shit,” CC breathed, his eyes as wide as dinner plates as she killed off the song.

“Why on Earth didn’tcha say ya could play flute before?” Bobby asked, his own eyes just as wide.

“Like I said before, it stopped being interesting,” she answered, shrugging as she brought the instrument down to rest on her knee, hands still poised to play.

“I think hearing that’s giving us all ideas, though,” the drummer chuckled.

“Think about it for a minute,” the younger bassist said. “If you were playing in tandem with Bobby or whoever wound up on piano on any given Night…”

“We’d be playing an instrumental on this particular tour, what with Bret being mute for the moment,” Belle laughed.

_She’s a point, guys,_ said vocalist scribbled since he hadn’t quite gotten his voice back enough to talk much.

“I meant when he _wasn’t_ mute,” Richie chuckled.

“Either way, it’s something I’d have to seriously think about,” the middle-aged woman said, gently laying the instrument key-up on the coffee table. “Not only that, but practice like a mother fucker, or have a mini-stand like a flutist in a marching band uses. I wouldn’t be able to play that without the sheet Music in front of me tonight without messing up fifty Times before the second verse.”

“Fair enough,” the drummer agreed. “So, what’s the difference in this and a piccolo?”

Since she’d been heading into the bunk room, she merely chuckled before Returning with a case in each hand.

“Damn, that case in your left hand’s fuckin’ tiny,” the lead guitarist said.

“Well, a piccolo’s only about a foot long,” Belle retorted. “And only has two parts that need to be put together, at that.”

Settling back on the couch, she flipped the latches on the slightly bigger case and opened it, quickly taking out the Metal rod and cloth that was in it. Threading it through the eye of the rod like one’d thread a sewing needle, she held it in her teeth as she pulled the flute apart. As she shoved that rod into the shortest piece, cloth and all, she said that particular piece was called the foot joint.

Even Bobby looked enthralled as she laid it back in the case, then picked up the longest pieceta repeat the process. She said this one was the actual body of the instrument, kinda like the part of an acoustic guitar or bass where the Sound hole was was also referred to as the body. It was the final piece she picked up–which was closed off on one End–that she said was called the head joint as she shoved the rod into it. Granted, they all had to ignore how suggestive that particular movement was, considering what perverted men they were at heart, not to mention how needy they were.

“The piccolo’s made up of only the head joint and body since it’s so much shorter,” Belle explained as she latched her flute case again.

“Wait, really?” the younger bassist asked, quite literally shaking off that suggestive fog that was clouding his brain.

_“Mmm hmm.”_ Unlatching the smaller case, the middle-aged woman pulled out the instrument in question and fitted the two pieces together.

“Wow, that damn thing really _is_ short,” Rikki mused as she balanced it across just her right hand.

“I can hold my standard flute the same way, ’cuz it’s all quite literally a balancing act,” she chuckled. “It just takes me a few seconds longer to find the Center of balance since it’s a foot longer.”

“So, what on Earth does this one sound like?” CC asked.

“I’d suggest plugging your ears, if ya want me to actually play it,” Belle told them.

“Damn, seriously?” Richie asked.

“Think the notes you’re picking out when you’re solo’ing all over yourself where the neck meets the body of your guitar,” the middle-aged woman laughed. “Just from a Wind instrument, not strings.”

“Jesus Christ!” all but Bobby chorused, even Bret getting those two words out.

“I won’t even play this joker without ear plugs–or even ear _buds_ –in since the latter’ll serve as ear plugs, if I’m not playing any Music through ’em,” she told them.

Jamming at least their pinkies in their ears, they all said they wanted to hear what it sounded like, but didn’t feel like coming down with migraines when they’d a show that Night. Belle shrugged as even the girls mimicked them while she was pulling a pair of ear plugs outta the piccolo’s open End, which was where she hid a pair to make sure she always had some.

Once they were jammed in her own ears, she raised the much-shorter instrument into a playing position, and they could already see the difference. Both hands were much closer to her head, which meant that whatever notes she played were no doubt to sound a lot louder. It wouldn’t matter what dynamic she was playing in–even if it was technically _piano_ –the notes’d still prolly sound like they were _fortissimo_ to her. Add in whatever range this thing was supposed to have, and it no doubt wouldn’t be any easier for her to tolerate since she was even more prone to migraines than both husbands combined.

Even Howie’s eyes widened as they heard a more muffled version of the shrieking notes she played, the lowest ones being the most tolerable. Their fingers being jammed into their ears didn’t do much to help with that ’cuz of the ungodly pitches, and now they were glad they’d done at least that. If they were honest, they weren’t sure that even their in-ears coulda saved their hearing from this diabolical _thing_ that she called an instrument as she worked her way through the same part as before.


	31. Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning– _DO NOT_ attempt to eat, drink, or smoke/vape _ANYTHING_ during this chapter! I claim absolutely _NO_ Responsibility for anyone who doesn't heed this warning choking when they come to a part involving the piccolo later in the chapter!  
> ~Firefly

_March, 2008_

_Chandler, Arizona_

By the Time _Samhain_ rolled around after Poison’s tour’d Ended in early-September, the band had managed to talk Belle into joining them the following Summer. They were wanting her to add that flute part she’d played when she’d transposed her husband’s piano riff on the bus that one afternoon to _Something to Believe In_. However, they’d since gotten other ideas after the girls both showed an interest in learning how to play flute, too, that only added to how Creative they were having to get.

They were planning on the tour running for about the same amount of Time–from early-July to early-September. If they Ended it sometime between the second and the seventh like they’d done the last couple Years, Zeph and Gypsi’d be fine, as far as school went. At worst, they’d just have to do their schoolwork through that homeschool program for the first couple weeks like they’d done this Time. None of the parents were gonna let them go out on the road for even a week, then force them into going to school without getting a chanceta readjust to being home again.

But the band’s idea now was that there be two flutists–one playing the piano riff alongside Bobby, the other playing the bass riff alongside Richie–and someone on picc. If they could manage to get someone on picc for this song, that person–most likely the middle-aged woman–would playing the lead riff alongside their resident cracker jack.

However, not only did Zeph and Gypsi have to be taught _how_ to play a flute in the first place, they’d to be taught how to read sheet Music for that particular instrument. That duty fell on their mother, ’cuz she was the only one outta the entire group besides the youngest bassist who could read sheet Music, but had the most contact with them. Even Bobby couldn’t actually read sheet Music–he just played by ear for the most part like his shared wife tended to do. Not even Duff could read sheet Music, for that matter–again, he tended to play by ear more than he didn’t. Course, both of them’d better Luck with actually learning how to read bass clef than treble, considering the instruments they played.

“Is that right, Mama?” Gypsi asked, sliding a sheet of paper across the dining room table to her mother to be _graded_.

“Nuh, uh,” she answered, shaking her head. “What’d I tell ya was an easy way to remember what order they come in on the staff?”

_“Uhhhh…”_ Her older daughter looked confused as she wracked her memory.

_“F.A.C.E.”_

Looking up, she and her younger sister saw their dads coming in the front door. “Huh?” they asked.

_“F.A.C.E.,”_ Bobby repeated. “That means _F’s_ in the bottom-most Space between lines on the staff.”

“Then _A_ in the next Space!” the brunette girl blurted, a grin suddenly stretching her face.

“What’s the next one after that?” the blonde bassist asked.

_“C_ in the third Space, and _E_ in the last one!” his own daughter answered.

“There ya go,” they chuckled, joining them at the table.

“Now, ya just gotta fill in the ones on each line,” the older bassist said. “Think ya can remember which ones go where?”

Belle couldn’t help the proud grin on her face at how even her husbands were finally catching on more, even if they were still struggling a bit in their own rights. Then again, she was struggling to teach herself how to read bass clef since she’d no reason to know how before, so she considered them even. At least they were willing to get in on the studies and learn something new that could help even them, if it meant teaching the girls.

While they were busy recalling what she’d already taught the two of them and helping the girls, she turned her attention back to her own task. She was used to going down to only that middle _C,_ if she were actually playing piano, which was a single ledger line below the staff. However, while reading bass clef, that note was actually _E,_ provided that no sharps or flats were added to Change each note slightly. That was the part that kept throwing her off, ’cuz she kept wanting to go up to _D_ from there instead of up to _F,_ which was why she was having to essentially rewire her brain.

Only once she’d taught herself how to read bass clef could she teach whichever of her daughters wound up playing along with Richie. It was looking like Gypsi was more likely to be the daughter playing alongside him, while her sister played alongside Bobby. But they weren’t gonna find out till all this _formal_ schooling was done since neither girl was nearly as good at playing by ear as their dads were. It’d be quite a while yet before they managed that feat, judging by how slow-going things seemed to be right now.

By mid-March, the girls’d finally learned how to read sheet Music so well that they didn’t need to label each note as a reminder. Gypsi’d even learned how to read bass clef alongside her mother, and it turned out that she was definitely better at playing along to her half-dad’s bass riff. She was still working at being able to keep tempo without messing up, but she was definitely getting better at it. Luckily, they still had nearly four months before the tour was supposed to start, if they were actually gonna get the oldest bassist’s womenfolk in on it like they’d talked about.

Since it was currently Spring break for the school Year, the family’d flown out to Los Angeles so they could meet up with the rest of the band. Even Duff and the boys’d come along, if only ’cuz they’d wanted to hear what their mother and sisters’d been doing lately. They knew they’d been locking themselves in the soundproof office a lot, but they didn’t know what they were up to when they did that.

“Hey there, girls!” Richie was the one to notice their arrival and greet them. “C’mon in here!”

“Hey, Rich,” Belle chuckled, letting him hug her as the others looked up from where they’d been focusing on other tasks, headphones on and all.

“Well, it’s about Time!” Bret laughed as they all took turns passing out hugs.

“Hey, it’s not like I’ve figured out that teleportation spell yet!” she retorted, even as she hugged him, too. “We’d have been here hours ago without having to catch a flight, if I had!”

“I know, I know,” he told her. “I’m just getting impatient, ’cuz Bobby’s told us on the phone that it’s looking good, but I’m excited to actually hear it.”

“Can’t say I’m _not_ and be telling the Truth,” CC chuckled.

Rikki and Richie both nodded their agreement, smiles curving their lips.

“Well, let us get set and warmed up, then,” the middle-aged woman said. “Thank the Gods these can be packed in our suitcases!”

“Seriously, unlike my bass and amp,” Bobby laughed, setting said items down where he wanted them.

The entirety of those playing got themselves set up, Duff and the boys settling on a couch to the side where Howie’d parked himself. Belle ran through a couple scales with the girls, ear plugs already in her ears since she was on picc, just like they’d wanted. Her instrument was a full octave above what the girls could manage on theirs, practically shrieking in comparison, which made the guys all cover their ears.

Looking up at her through one eye, the lead guitarist was quick to excuse himself from the room on the grounds that he needed to go check his britches. He was pretty sure the notes that thing’d just produced had made him shit himself, and even if it hadn’t, he couldn’t hear through the ringing in his ears. The middle-aged woman couldn’t help practically dying laughing, her husbands quick to catch her when she doubled over. Startled, even the manager couldn’t help asking if she was okay or not, but she managed to wave him off as she forced herself to quit laughing.

Once she’d caught her breath and CC–not to mention the drummer–had Returned from their impromptu bathroom break, she said that his comment’d reminded her of something downright hilarious. None of them quite understood what she meant, and she couldn’t help the grin that split her face as she said it was an online ad she’d seen about a private sale of a picc. It was a hilarious read for just about anyone, but especially a musician since they already had the musical know-how, as it were.

“All right, this we’ve gotta hear,” Bret chuckled.

“I’d suggest that anyone who hasta take a potty break, then,” Belle told them. “Even those who _don’t_ feel like they need to.”

Duff let out a chuckle of his own as Levi pouted at her. “C’mon, bud–when Mama says something like that, she’s usually right.”

“Something tells me whatever she’s about to say’ll have us all having accidents, if we don’t,” the oldest bassist agreed with a chuckle of his own.

“Oh, you’re right about that,” she laughed. “Nearly makes _me_ pee my britches, if I reread it without a potty break–and I’ve read it _several_ Times since it’s been circulating online for the last couple Years.”

“Then we _definitely_ need to, if it makes _Mama_ nearly pee herself,” Bobby said.

It took them a few minutes, but everyone–including the band’s manager and any other crew who were sitting in on this rehearsal–finally came back from the recommended piss breaks. Well, those who hadn’t already taken one while they were already in the bathroom checking for skid marks, that is. Once everyone was grouped up in their practice Space again, Belle made sure they were all sitting down since she knew they’d all be howling with laughter before it was all said and done.

_“They call the trumpet_ God’s Instrument– _the instrument that takes a month to learn and a Lifetime to master,”_ she started as she leaned back against the nearest wall. _“Forget that, I’m giving ya the chanceta own_ Satan's Instrument– _the instrument that takes a second to hate and a Lifetime to get used to.”_

“Oh, God–if she doesn’t speak the Truth already, I dunno how to put it!” Rikki laughed.

“This is already getting good, and she’s barely started,” the youngest bassist agreed with a chuckle of his own.

“Just shut up and keep listening,” the middle-aged woman chuckled. _“If your goal’s World Domination, getting the ball rolling on the Apocalypse, or simply disarming someone who’s a lil too_ rapey, _this miniature Flute of Terror’ll hold the game down_ – _and how…”_

None of them could help a bout of laughter, all agreeing that _Flute of Terror_ was certainly a good name for it.

_“Brought to y’all by Lucifer himself, this Bundy bpc-300 Piccolo’ll serve his evil minion well. From its compact, arthritis-inducing body, this pipe’ll unleash a Sound that can bring entire crowds of people to their knees in pain and surrender. If you’re thinking of starting a bloody coup, leave the AK-47s and sarin gas at home, son_ – _this picc’s all ya need,”_ Belle continued, even as she rolled her eyes.

“Good God, yes–leave the actual weapons at home, if ya can get your hands on one of _those!”_ the lead guitarist crowed.

Not even missing a beat, she kept going without so much a smile. _“This instrument’s the ability to sing an_ A _five lines above the staff so crisp and clear that_ – _if you’re not careful_ – _may actually cleave your conductor’s brain clean in half. Its highest note’s one only Dogs can hear, that composers’ve dubbed_ X.”

Even Bobby and Duff were cracking up at that, but she knew it only got better from there.

_“Apart from the oboe, this is the only instrument able to kick a field goal of pain right between the goal posts of your unfortunate target’s neurons, resulting in synaptic misfires, blown mental fuses, and a complete breakdown of all left-brain activity, leaving the right brain to writhe in pain and confusion whilst scrambling all bodily motor functions,”_ the middle-aged woman said, causing them to practically choke on their own spit. _“Any Soul unlucky enough to wind up on the business End of Beezulbub’s piccolo’ll instantly be reduced to the fetal position and revoked of their right to free Will.”_

“No…fuckin’…shit!” Bret gasped between laughter.

“I think _my_ left brain was dying while ya were playing that thing!” the shortest blonde crowed.

“I think my _right_ brain was the one writhing in agony,” Richie agreed, wiping away tears forced out by his laughter.

_“Aside from violating several Geneva Convention protocols, this wailing weaponry can produce frequencies that wreak havoc upon others by causing sudden, unexpected nosebleeds, aphasia_ – _”_

“Whas dat mean, Mommy?” Levi asked, confusion overriding his own giggles for a moment.

“The loss of ability to understand or express speech that’s caused by brain damage, lil man,” Belle chuckled.

“I can see how and why,” the drummer said, coughing.

“Back to where I was… _Heart palpitations, aneurysms, loss of Sanity_ – _”_

“No fuckin’ Wonder you’re so insane, if you’ve played _that_ thing long enough!” CC howled, slapping his knee.

_“_ – _unexplainable Rage, spontaneous combustion, abandonment of the Will to live, and anal leakage,”_ the middle-aged woman continued without missing a beat.

Now they understood how his comment about needing to check his britches’d made her crack up in the first place, all else so far aside.

_“It’s a common mistake to think that the piccolo also has side effects on its user,”_ Belle said, still wearing the straightest face any of them’d ever seen. _“Many claim it causes acute narcissism, but in Reality, the only people drawn to this instrument’re already delusionally narcissistic, have serial killer tendencies, and show traits as promising Future dictators.”_

Even the kids–including Zep–couldn’t help erupting into more laughter, which was the only thing to make her pause for a moment.

_“Since I’m livin’ the Dream, I'm retiring from my Reign of Terror and passing on the Torch,”_ the middle-aged woman continued, knowing she was nearing the End. _“Being evil’s an arduous, exhaustive effort, and this musical scepter cannot be played by your average, white-bread, vanilla villain_ – _only the most cunning, dexterous, morally ambiguous, and questionably sane may apply. Who among y’all’s worthy?”_

At this point, there were several bodies curled and otherwise tangled up on the floor from where they’d quite literally laughed themselves outta their seats. Brown and blonde hair seemed tangled together fairly evenly as its respective owner howled, each of them pretty much the living epitome of the piece of text lingo that stood for _rolling on floor, laughing my fuckin’ ass off_. The thing that no doubt made it that much funnier for them was that, despite the hilarity of the ad she’d quoted, Belle’d managed to keep a straight face the whole Time she was reciting it. Not only that, but that last bit was a description of her to the T–at least, several parts of it were, given that not all quite fit her, as far as they were concerned.

They eventually managed to stop laughing, all of them claiming to have everything from sore bellies, aching ribs, and stitches in their sides from it. Unable to help a chuckle of her own, she started helping each of the men who’d fallen outta their chairs back up, not surprised they still ran off to the bathroom again. Even poor lil Levi needed to go clean up a bit, his giggle fit having still made him wet himself, despite the potty break his mother’d insisted he take beforehand.

Once everybody was settled where they needed to be, instruments in hand–and lyres on, in the middle-aged woman’s and girls’ cases–Rikki got ready to count everybody in. Everybody’d crammed ear plugs into their ears, even if they were technically supposed to be playing, to mute the Sound of her picc a bit. But that was one of the good parts about using amps for just about everything right now, they could always turn them up a bit louder so they could still hear themselves. Well, the drummer could just pound his kit a bit harder, but drums were generally already so loud that he didn’t think he’d need to.

Zeph sat on the bench next to her own daddy so she could see, not to mention hear his piano riff a bit more clearly as they started everybody off once counted in. Bobby couldn’t help the grin on his face as his lil girl played beautifully, easily staying on-beat with him as she watched him from the corner of her eye. Her gaze was actually focused on the sheet Music in the lyre that was affixed to her wrist as she played, though.

Gypsi joined in once Richie kicked off her half-dad’s bass riff, which meant she wasn’t playing quite as much as her baby sister. Their mother joined in once the lead guitarist did, flawlessly playing that much-higher lead riff on her picc and Ending only when he muted his strings. It was certainly a harder feat to manage than what her daughters were doing, considering the notes were so much higher and chords could be formed on a guitar, but not so much on a Wind instrument. Then again, her part was also made harder ’cuz she’d to tighten up her _embouchure_ far more, which was the main reason she wouldn’t let either of them give this part a whirl. Not only that, but it took a helluva lot more forceta actually get the notes out, which was another reason she’d insisted on doing this part, herself.

“Sounding damn good, ladies,” Howie said once the final note’d died away. “But might I make a suggestion?”

“Just ’cuz ya make it doesn’t mean we’ll listen,” Belle laughed, gesturing for him to go ahead.

“How ’bout we run through it with Gypsi and Zeph switched?” he asked. “It seemed like Zeph was struggling a lil bit more than when she’s on piano.”

Said lil girl pouted at him, having thought she’d done a stellar job.

“Hey, we’re not saying it’ll stay that way, baby girl,” Bobby reassured her. “Practicing more can easily help with that.”

“But Howie’s a point,” the middle-aged woman agreed. “It’d be better for both of y’all to learn the other’s part, just in case y’all _do_ need to switch during the tour.”

“She’s not wrong,” Richie said Sagely as he nodded. “CC and I switch sometimes, depending on what songs we’re doing and how our wrists feel.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Remember how I’ve said that I’ve something called _Carpel Tunnel Syndrome?”_ Belle countered. “And if not that, then something called _tendinitis?”_

“Uh, huh,” both girls chorused.

“Both of those things’re caused by the repetitive movements made by typing and playing certain instruments, alike,” she explained. “That’s especially true with something like guitar.”

Both men who’d served as Poison’s lead guitarist at one point or another nodded, even Bret and the bassists nodding their own agreement. They said that sometimes, their wrists and arms’d hurt a lil too much from decades of playing–especially _solo’ing all over themselves,_ as the middle-aged woman put it–causing at least tendinitis in them, too. On one Night, CC might play his own lead riffs, but on others, he’d switch with Richie and stick to the bass riffs before the oldest bassist’d come back into the fold. Sure, doing that still aggravated his wrist a lil bit, but not nearly as badly for the most part, so it often helped.

What they were trying to tell the girls was that trying to play almost as wildly as their mama might cause Zeph’s arms and wriststa hurt more. If she needed to switch parts with her sister, it’d be a good thing for said sister to know how to play hers and vice versa long before the tour started. Unfortunately, that left said mama SOL since she didn’t have anybody to switch with, ’cuz nobody else knew how to play a picc. Belle assured them that she was cool with that, though, ’cuz this particular demonic weapon was a bitch to learn how to play.

Nodding as they got the point they were trying to make, Zeph and Gypsi simply swapped lyres, not to mention seats. That was a far cry easier to do than trying to pull the sheet Music out and put it in the opposite lyre, considering that all they’d to do by swapping equipment was a bit of adjustment to the strap. While the younger girl’d to tighten her sister’s a bit since her arm was smaller, her sister’d to loosen the one she was handed a hair since _her_ arm was bigger. Once they were ready to go, they nodded to everyone else, the blonde now settled on the bench next to her half-dad. Returning the nod, Rikki counted them in, then simply waited for the Music to kick up more nearly a minute after she and Bobby started their parts.

As they drew a closeta their rehearsal a couple hours later, just about everybody was grimacing as they clenched and unclenched their fists. Even the oldest bassist’s hands were cramping after playing that piano riff for the last couple hours, but one thing could certainly be said. Despite the fact that they all needed a bit more practice before that Summer, it was already sounding pretty good.


	32. Thirty-One

When what they were calling the _Live, Raw, and Uncut_ tour kicked off in Salt Lake City, Utah on July third, everybody involved was beyond excited for it. Sure, Gypsi was a bit sad about leaving her dad and brothers behind–this Time for far longer than those couple weeks they’d been on the road last Summer. But the thing that helped her was knowing that her mom, half-dad, and half-sister were all gonna be with her, that she wasn’t alone. Not only that, but she knew that said mom was gonna be missing the ones staying home prolly more so than the others, too.

Considering the limited amount of Spaceta work with, Bobby’d decided to pay for his family to have their own bus outta his own pocket. At least that’d be easier–not to mention offer him and his wife a bit more privacy–than trying to cram everyone on a single bus. That was especially true, considering that a tour generally meant cramming crew and band alike on one busta Begin with.

At that first tour stop, everybody decided on running through _Something to Believe In_ during Sound check so they could see how it sounded somewhere other than an enclosed room. The unfortunate part about the additions they were making to the instrumental part was how quiet the Wind instruments were compared to everything else. Outta every solution they’d tried, the only thing that’d worked was wiring the girls and their mother up so there was a collar mic clipped to the End of their instruments. Said mics were wired up to their Sound packs so that not only would they be able to hear themselves playing, but the crowd would be able to hear them, too.

Luckily, that lil bit of ingenuity worked out quite well during Sound check, and they were pretty sure it’d work during the actual show, too. The only reason they could foresee it _not_ working would be if some part of the equipment they were using shit out mid-show. If that were to happen, they already knew that whatever part was being picked up by any given mic’d suddenly disappear, as far as the crowd was concerned. Hell, it might disappear, as far as what those onstage heard, if the part got drowned out by the other instruments enough.

“Well, here’s hoping that it _doesn’t_ shit out on us,” Bret said.

“Yeah, here’s hoping,” the middle-aged woman agreed. “And I swear to the Gods, if they weren’t as old as they are, I’d wash your mouth out with vinegar for cussing in front of the girls.”

Zeph and Gypsi stuck their tongues out in a clear _Yuck!_ face as all but the older bassist looked bewildered.

“She does that when we say something we shouldn’t,” the older girl managed to giggle. “Tastes nasty, too.”

“That’s the whole point since punishment ain’t supposed to be fun,” Belle retorted with a smirk.

“Jeez, Bob–drag your woman off for a lil while before showtime!” the drummer laughed. “Just make sure she can still breathe later since we kinda need her!”

Bobby damn near choked on his own spit as he cracked up, knowing exactly what his band mate meant. “Oh, shut up, or I’ll make sure we’re both _incapacitated!”_

“Do I even wanna know, sissy?” the younger girl asked.

“Pretty sure Mama’d do more than gimme a mouthful of vinegar, if I toldja,” Gypsi answered, wiping away her own tears.

“You’re damn right I would, Gypsi Rose!” she told her. “Y’all ain’t supposed to know what either of the dads and I do, as it is!”

“Ya need to have the soundproofing at home redone, then!” the older girl retorted with a grin. “Ear plugs work only so well, after all!”

Letting out an _Ooh!_ only an irate woman could pull off, Belle made to chase her older daughter down when she took off like her ass was on Fire. Bobby chuckled and stopped her by wrapping his arms around her waist, his half-daughter cackling from across the stage. Nuzzling her neck after leaning down, he murmured in her ear that dragging her off like a caveman was sounding like a good idea right about now.

Even Zeph wasn’t immune to cracking up when he left her with no choice by hefting her up and tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of Taters. Screeching in mock outrage–which was belied by the laughter mixed in–the middle-aged woman pounded on her older husband’s back with her fists. Laughing, he told her she could keep right on, if she really wanted to since that actually felt good as he landed a good smack across her up-turned rump. That only earned him his own slap across the ass in response, which made him let out a cackle of his own as he carried her off to Hell-only-knew where.

By showtime, the older bassist and his wife’d finally emerged from wherever he’d dragged her off to just in Time to start getting ready. They’d both apparently grabbed a pre-show shower, no doubt to wash off the all-too-obvious scent of sex, before meeting up with the rest of the band and crew. While he was dressed in what he called his _comfy chic_ manner, his wife was about as dolled up as she coulda possibly managed. For some reason, she’d chosen a pair of jeans tight enough that she didn’t need a belt, not to mention swiped one of the tighter tank tops from their merch trailer. She’d also decided to go all-out with her makeup, even though the Poison-green eye shadow was a bit weird on her, considering her Chocolate eyes.

Something else she’d managed wasta find one of Bobby’s old hats from the _Flesh and Blood_ era, which she plunked down on his head before he got up from where he’d sat down after getting ready. He’d cocked a brow at her as he’d shoved it back enough to see clearly, which made her grin deviously as she pulled it back down. Nobody heard what she murmured in his ear–which was her Intent–but they saw how he straightened a bit, almost like she’d grabbed him below his belt.

“Shut up, sugar, before ya make me wanna drag ya off again,” he practically growled as he rose.

“Maybe that’s what I _want,_ though,” Belle snickered.

“If I do that right now, we’re not gonna make it onstage in Time, damn it,” the older bassist warned her.

“Then maybe it’s better thatcha don’t,” Rikki laughed, easily figuring out what they were bickering about.

“Jeez, as if three hours wasn’t enough,” Gypsi said, rolling her eyes.

“Shit, _twenty Years_ hasn’t been enough for me,” he retorted. “And I doubt _another_ twenty Years is gonna be, either.”

_“Ewwww!”_ the older girl shrieked. “That’s just gross, Daddy Bobby!”

“Love ain’t gross, ya goof,” Bobby chuckled.

“It is when it involves my parents!” she shot back. “Half-daddy, in _your_ case, but it’s _still_ gross!”

“All right, Bobby–quit torturing the poor kid with your perverted ways,” Howie chuckled. “I’m sure she gets enough of it at home.”

_“More_ than enough,” Gypsi grumbled.

“Well, good thing’s that it’s showtime,” he told them. “And if Mom and Dad can behave themselves tonight, ya won’t have to hear it at the hotel tomorrow.”

The older girl cheered while her sister simply giggled. “Thank the frickin’ Gods–Howie, you’re a lifesaver!”

“Teenagers–they’re weirder than adults,” Belle snickered as she shook her head in amusement.

She was quick to give said husband a kiss before sending him off to the stage alongside his band mates with a gentle smack to his ass. Bobby let out another warning growl as he settled his in-ears properly, that way they helped preserve his hearing against most of the other instruments. He didn’t know how much more teasing he could take, if he didn’t wanna be hiding Wood behind his bass at least half the Night.

The cheers and applause that could be heard as they ran out were almost deafening, even backstage, but that meant the crowd was already excited. Given that the song they were playing on was eighth on the setlist, Belle and the girls were gonna be waiting backstage till then. They’d free rein to practice their parts, if that was what they wanted to do, or simply enjoy what lil of the show they could get from here. It was up to them since their wait to get their own cues was gonna be a decent one, either way, not that they’d much choice in the matter there.

Before the boys’d even finished the third verse of _Cry Tough,_ the crew was getting the girls into position so they could head out. Zeph was gonna play alongside her daddy tonight and see how it went before she decided on even a temporary part switch with her sister. Since they were gonna need more Space, either way, the crew’d managed to anchor two piano stools together. Whoever played alongside him could sit back-to-back with Bobby so the crowd saw their profiles as they were playing.

Once the lil girl was settled, spine as straight as she could get it to aid her playing, Rikki raised his sticks and counted them in. As he started plunking out his riff, Zeph playing hers along with him–much to the crowd’s surprise–the older bassist completely missed what his wife did sidestage. She hadn’t told him she’d commissioned her own version of the hat she’d plunked down on his own head before he headed out, which was still pulled down to keep the stage Lights outta his eyes. But she plunked an almost identical one down on her own head, pulling it down low over her eyesta block out those very same Lights, as she waited for her cue. From the other side of the stage, Gypsi awaited her own cue with her flute held in a resting position in front of her.

As Richie and CC ripped into their riffs, the other two womenfolk started playing before they’d even walked onto the stage to join the others. The guys all wore smiles as they came out, the lead guitarist and younger bassist turning to their guitar necks faced the crowd more. Leaning back slightly, they were able to stand back-to-back with mother and daughter, whose instruments were also extended more so toward the crowd. Luckily, the mics clipped to the Ends of them were small enough that they couldn’t be seen, even under the bright Lights, as they played flawlessly.

“Give it up for the ladies, Dragonfly, Storm, and _Firefly!”_ Bret yelled into his mic once they’d rounded out the song in question.

Mother and daughters all took a bow, their instruments held in the hands that went behind their backs as they did.

“Wha–” Belle started to ask when her older husband grabbed her before she could get backstage afterward.

“Let’s show ’em that some mamas _do_ dance, shall we?” he chuckled, making sure his mic caught his words as Richie handed him his bass before heading backstage.

“Ya rat, you!” the middle-aged woman laughed into the mic.

“Hit it, C!” Bobby crowed, not giving her a chanceta argue with him.

She simply rolled her eyes as she smacked his ass yet again, the lead guitarist cackling as he ripped into their cover of _Your Mama Don’t Dance_. It was definitely one of those that was high on her list of favorites, if she were honest with herself, and she couldn’t help starting to dance slightly. Her older husband bumping hips with her as they played through it was certainly enough to really get her moving, even as she sang along with him and the rest of the band.

Knowing how good she was at it, Bobby grinned as he took a step back, letting her cover his lead-ins for the chorus and infamous one-liner. The crowd seemed surprised at how well she growled out those parts, especially the latter one, considering that not even Rikki’d managed it very well during the thirteen Years he wasn’t a part of the band. It woulda been surprising enough for another man to do it just as well, but for a woman who’d proven to have a much higher voice over all? None of them were really surprised by the crowd’s reaction, considering they’d needed to hear it a few Times to believe it, themselves.

After finishing out that particular number, all but the drummer headed backstage to join Richie and the girls during his solo. The middle-aged woman couldn’t help spanking her husband again, which just made him laugh as he pulled her against his sweaty torso. He couldn’t help but wanna make her show off sometimes, even when it pushed her outside her Comfort zone, ’cuz he knew how good she really was.

“Bobby, I swear–I could kill ya for that!” she laughed.

“Ya love me too much to kill me, andja know it, sugar!” the older bassist retorted.

“Not when ya smell like a rotten gym bag!” Belle shot back, fanning her nose.

“Unless I smell like one for a totally different reason,” he said with a grin, shifting his weight from one foot to the other so he could rub against her.

“You’re cruising for a bruising, Dall,” the middle-aged woman warned him, her own grin belying any true malice.

_“Ugggghhhh,”_ Gypsi groaned as she flopped face-first into the couch she was sitting on. “Am I _really_ gonna have to put up with this the _entire_ tour?”

“More than likely, kiddo,” CC laughed, even as he settled on the edge of the cushion to rub her back. “But hey, at least they’re not at each other’s throats.”

“I think that might be better than being subjected to their sexual shenanigans,” she said.

“Y’all ain’t being subjected to shit,” Bobby told her. “That’s only if we tie y’all to a chair, tape your eyes open, and make y’all watch.”

“Robert Harry Kuykendall!” his wife squawked, smacking his chest.

“Well, it’s true!” he laughed, even as he held her hand against the spot she’d just smacked right over his heart.

“If I wanted a voyeur, I’d get Duff in on it so we could just have a threesome!” Belle snapped.

Both girls shrieked and jumped up to haul ass for their bus, which made the group gathered backstage laugh even harder than they already were. Still, none of them could deny that there was a certain Energy here that’d hadn’t been present in a long Time, if it ever had. If they could manage to keep that Energy for the entirety of the tour, they all thought this might just be Poison’s best tour yet.

With the drum solo wrapped up and Bret’s sugar checked to make sure he wasn’t about to keel on them, the guys got ready to head back out. The older bassist stole a quick kiss before he headed back out, already plucking out the bass riff to _Unskinny Bop_ before he’d even rounded the curtain. Belle rolled her eyes, thinking back roughly twenty Yearsta how goofy he’d been during the _Open Up_ tour following all the Time Travel business. That’d been the only other tour she’d tried to go on with him, and even then, she’d cut it a bit short to catch up with GN’R and their _Appetite_ tour.

Since she was no longer needed, the middle-aged woman headed off to call home and check in with the rest of her boys. Well, she was Intent on making sure Zeph and Gypsi’d actually gone to their family’s bus first, but once she’d assured herself of that, she was calling home. She’d already promised to call and let them know how the first show went, and she was nothing, if not a stubborn Lady of her word. Besides, she figured Duff talking dirty to her could help get her wound up for a more private after-party, as it were.


	33. Thirty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, I'ma give more or less the same warning–absolutely _NO_ eating, drinking, or smoking/vaping _ANYTHING_ during this chapter! I quoted only a small portion of what I quoted in Chapter Thirty, and I still take no Responsibility whatsoever for anyone choking, if they don't heed this warning.  
> ~Firefly

“All right, I gotta ask since I’m sure it’s on everybody’s minds this tour–what on Earth madeja decide to add the new partsta _Something to Believe In?”_

The entirety of Poison, and even Belle, were settled for one of the random interviews that often got done in the midst of a tour. None of them were surprised this question was getting asked–it was such a surpriseta just about anyone who knew the song in question that they woulda been surprised, if it _didn’t_ get asked at some point. Unable to help a grin that was shared by the rest of his band, the vocalist glanced over to his right where the long-lived rock ‘n’ roll couple were seated.

“Well, it actually ties back to last Summer’s tour,” he said, turning back to face today’s interviewer.

“Really?” the guy–who’d introduced himself as Zach–asked, looking surprised.

“Remember when Bobby’s wife oh, so graciously filled in for me the last couple weeks?” the vocalist countered.

“I think the whole Planet does, man,” he laughed, then turned his attention to the woman in question. “By the way, I gotta say that you’ve an amazing voice–so versatile, it puts the rest of these boysta shame, if ya ask me.”

_“Molto grazie,”_ Belle chuckled from where she sat half-in her older husband’s lap ’cuz of the way she’d draped a leg over one of his and rested the opposite ankle on her knee like the guys were doing.

“To answer your question, though… The week after she and her girls joined the tour since they were the ones on piano that Time, she revealed something I’m not even sure her husbands ever knew,” Bret continued.

“We didn’t,” the older bassist laughed. “She kept that Secret for damn near twenty Years!”

“So, exactly what Secret was she keeping?” Zach asked curiously, his brow cocked.

Laughing, the middle-aged woman explained how she’d played mostly flute as a part of the concert bands in middle and high school when she was a kid. It wasn’t till she was in high school and one of her band directors wanted somebody to play picc for one of the songs they were doing for a competition that she started playing that particular instrument. She’d told the man that if he’d a spare in the storage room, she’d take it home with her over the weekend and give it a whirl. If she proved to be able to play it, he was in Luck–if not, he was screwed into having two flutes, ’cuz the boy who’d played flute alongside her flat-out refused to even try. Even to this Day, she wasn’t too sure what the kid’s reason was, but she didn’t care since it worked out all around.

“After we killed off the tour and got back home, the girls decided they wanted to learn how to play flute, too,” she said. “I figure, not everybody’s the grit to actually do it–flute’s the hardest instrument besides tuba to play ’cuz of _how_ it’s played, after all.”

“It is?” Even Rikki shot her a surprised look as he leaned forward a bit.

_“Mmm hmm.”_ Belle nodded as she hummed. “Tuba’s a lot more–well, tubing to have to force Air through. Flutists lose the vast majority of their Air from blowing _across_ the hole, not into it.”

“Okay, I think I can see how that’d make it pretty hard to master,” the interviewer said with a nod of his own.

“Well, I proved I could actually play one by playing Bobby’s piano riff on it,” she chuckled. “Transposition’s one of those things that takes a damn good musician to do, but I’d figured out how Years ago.”

“I’m assuming before ya even met him,” Zach said with a chuckle of his own.

“Oh, definitely,” the middle-aged woman answered, laughing. “But I figured out how to transpose that particular piece while they were still out on the _Native Tongue_ tour–I just never proved it till last Summer.”

“I think it was actually Richie who came up with the idea of adding her playing the piano riff on flute to the song,” CC spoke up.

“It was more of a mutual thing between all of y’all– _he_ was just the one to actually suggest it,” she corrected him. “And if you’ll recall my response then…”

“That we’d have been doing an instrumental at the Time, and you’d need some serious practice on top of it,” Bret laughed.

Even the interviewer couldn’t help laughing as he admitted that, practice or no, she was right about how they’d have done an instrumental since she was covering him on vocals at the Time. He couldn’t think of a single person on the Planet who could play a Wind or Brass instrument and sing at the same Time, so the Day somebody proved him wrong’d be the Day he ate his own foot. None of them could help cracking up at the mental imagery, the lead guitarist cracking a joke about how she’d have to literally clone herself to be able to pull off that kinda thing.

“I kinda _have_ literally cloned myself, if ya think about it,” Belle wheezed once she finally Calmed down enough to speak. “Twice, actually.”

“Nah, that doesn’t count since you’d to have sperm to manage that,” he retorted with a grin.

“I say it does since the girls’re practically identical to me in their looks,” the middle-aged woman shot back playfully.

“Wait, are they really?” Zach asked.

“They most certainly are,” she answered. “We thought my older daughter looked more like her daddy when she was born, but she’s grown up to look more like me. Same goes with my younger daughter, too, before ya ask.”

“Now I’m kinda confused, though,” the interviewer said. “Didn’t Bret use the word _husbands_ earlier?”

“Not that my private Life’s anyone’s business but my own, but Bobby’s not the only guy I’ve been with for nearly twenty Years,” Belle told him.

“We’ve both known since the Beginning, though, so it’s not like she’s been cheating on either of us,” her older husband was quick to add. “More like she got her cake and to eat it, too, ’cuz she choseta be with both of us instead of forcing herself to pick between us.”

“I think the whole World’s gonna be curious about who else you’re with, but we’ll save that for some other Time,” he chuckled. “Back to the topic at hand, though…”

Nodding their agreement since they didn’t really wanna get into her Love Life, anywhore, they were more than glad to get back on track. Picking up with where they’d left off, they explained how–after teaching the girls how to read sheet Music in the first place–they’d all practiced like hell. The only one who didn’t occasionally switch with anyone was the middle-aged woman, and that was simply ’cuz neither girl could play her picc. Both girls’d tried, and they just couldn’t get any notes out, rather than playing at a whisper too quiet to hear.

“I mean, playing at a whisper like that’s great when you’re running through a different part of a song than what you’re director’s working on with a different section of the band in school,” Belle said. “But not so much when you’re trying to play loud enough for a mic to catch onstage.”

“Whaddaya mean?” the interviewer asked, his brow furrowed as much as the rest of the guys.

“Well, since I’ve my picc right here…” she laughed as she reached behind the couch the majority of them were settled on.

“Oh, God!” CC cried, already covering his ears. “The _Flute of Terror!”_

The entire group cracked up at the inside joke as she was opening the case and putting the tiny thing together.

“I’m not sure I wanna know,” Zach chuckled.

“Inside joke,” the middle-aged woman answered. “You’d to be there, man.”

“Isn’t that the Truth?” Richie asked, unable to help a chuckle of his own.

Raising her _weapon of Destruction,_ as it also often got called, Belle just barely blew across the _embouchure_ hole as she started playing the lead riff she played in tandem with CC. Everybody around her–including the Sound crew–could hear the faintest whisper as she played, but not much else. In fact, they could just barely discern between notes, and that was only ’cuz of how opening and closing certain keys Changed the Air flow just slightly.

“The girls can’t get anything beyond that out when they try,” she said as she ran the cleaning cloth through the body once she’d lowered the instrument again.

_“Ahhhh,_ I gotcha.” Zach nodded. “Seemed like it was kinda hard for you, and you’ve obviously got more experience with it.”

“Nah, the hard part’s getting the shrieking solo out,” the middle-aged woman laughed. “I’ve to tighten up my _embouchure_ so damn much, there’s barely a hole to get any Air out, and it takes a helluva lot more forceta manage.”

_“Embouchure?”_ he asked, looking confused.

“Purse your lips like you’re gonna whistle,” Belle told him.

Nodding, even the rest of the band joined him.

“Now blow like you’re gonna whistle, just without actually making any Sound,” she told them. “That shape you’re forming with your lips is your _embouchure.”_

“Now _that_ actually makes a lil sense,” Bret chuckled.

“Well, how tight or loose your _embouchure_ is Changes the pitches of the notes ya hit when you’re playing a flute or picc the same way it does when you’re whistling,” the middle-aged woman explained. “The tighter you’ve to make it, the harder it can be to actually get certain notes out.”

“So, just how high can this lil pea-shooter go?” Zach asked curiously.

“To quote part of that inside joke, _this instrument’s the ability to sing an_ A _five lines above the staff so crisp and clear that_ – _if you’re not careful_ – _may actually cleave your conductor’s brain clean in half. Its highest note’s one only Dogs can hear, that composers’ve dubbed_ X,” Belle answered with a straight face.

Just like when she’d originally quoted that ad, the band couldn’t help momentarily cracking up.

“Damn, seriously?” the interviewer laughed.

“Not really, I don’t think, but it damn well feels–and _sounds_ –like it,” she chuckled. _“Apart from the oboe, this is the only instrument able to kick a field goal of pain right between the goal posts of your unfortunate target’s neurons, resulting in synaptic misfires, blown mental fuses, and a complete breakdown of all left-brain activity, leaving the right brain to writhe in pain and confusion whilst scrambling all bodily motor functions.”_

Even the rest of the crew was cracking up, CC feigning falling out with a seizure to add to the effect.

_“Any Soul unlucky enough to wind up on the business End of Beezulbub’s piccolo’ll instantly be reduced to the fetal position and revoked of their right to free Will,”_ Belle managed to continue without choking on her own spit.

Bret even fell over sideways so his head landed in poor Richie’s lap as he was overcome with his laughter, mostly ’cuz of how his band mate was still spazzing on the ground at their feet. Said younger bassist didn’t seem to pay any mind to having another guy’s head in his lap like that, but that was prolly only due to how hard he was laughing at the shortest blonde’s antics. Even Rikki’d fallen over sideways, practically squishing the middle-aged woman between himself and her older husband as his head fell down to her breast. She didn’t pay any attention, ’cuz she knew damn good and well it wasn’t meant in a sexual manner as much as said husband knew it.

Once they’d finally managed to Calm down so they could sit up and even talk again, CC grinning as he picked himself up from the ground to settle next to the vocalist, they were quick to wrap up the interview. It’d already gone on a bit longer than planned due to some of the impromptu questions, and they still had to get ready for their show in Kansas City, Missouri that Night. Thanking them for their Time and saying they hoped they got to do this again, the crew started breaking down and packing up their gear.

In the dressing rooms they’d been assigned, none of them could deny this being a helluva tour so far, even though they weren’t quite a week into it yet. Things’d been going so smoothly, despite the addition of three new parts and the hormonal women to cover them this Time around. But none of them could even fathom the surprise that was gonna greet them at the meet-and-greet after the show. Even Belle–who knew more about the Future than she let on–couldn’t Begin to fathom it, nor where said surprise was gonna lead for at least one of them as Time passed.


	34. Thirty-Three

Before the band actually headed onstage that Night, Richie posed a quick idea to the rest of them that he’d been thinking about. Having noticed how Bret didn’t seem to have quite enough Time to check his sugar during the drum solo this Time around, he’d been thinking about how they could extend his break. After hearing how the middle-aged woman’d sang last Summer, he’d started keeping his ears peeled every Time he was around her. One afternoon while they’d been getting ready for an interview she wasn’t supposed to be involved in, he’d overheard her singing _Stand,_ and from memory rather than singing along to the studio version.

The younger bassist’s idea wasta switch out _Unskinny Bop_ for that one, unless CC wanted to do _I Hate Every Bone in Your Body but Mine_. Whichever one they decided to do, it’d give the vocalist a bit more Time to check his sugar, but also give his voice a break. After all, they didn’t want it shitting out mid-tour again, and if that helped him–well, it was a good idea to at least run past them.

All the guys agreed that it was a pretty good idea, and they were quick to turn their attention to Belle since they’d need her take on it. Thinking it over for a moment, she said she’d do it–but she wasn’t actually gonna sing the first verse the way it’d been written. Brows furrowed in confusion as they asked what she meant by that, considering there wasn’t Time to rewrite it on such short notice. Not only that, but it prolly wouldn’t sound right, even if they _did_ have that kind Time on their hands at the moment.

“I’m not saying it _hasta_ be rewritten,” the middle-aged woman clarified. “I mean that, due to its Christian Nature, I just don’t like it. I’ll come in at the chorus–even sing lead on the second verse, myself–but I’m not singing the first verse.”

“Fair enough, sugar,” Bobby agreed with a nod. “Even I’ve never really liked the first verse since I converted long before it was ever written.”

“Can’t all be identical, I suppose,” even the vocalist agreed.

“The World would be boring, if that were the case,” Rikki chuckled.

“Then I guess it’s settled,” the lead guitarist said. “I’d kinda rather see how _that_ turns out tonight than cover lead, myself.”

“Just not feeling it, huh?” Belle laughed.

“Nah, not really,” he answered. “Just not in the mood tonight.”

“Hey, I don’t blame ya,” the middle-aged woman told him. “I get into my own moods where I just don’t wanna talk, much less sing.”

“Till Duff or I getcha to screaming instead,” her husband murmured in her ear.

“Robert!” she squawked, slapping him across the ass.

Bobby couldn’t help cracking up as he plunked the hat she’d insisted he wear during their shows on his head. “Ya know it’s true, sugar.”

“Shut up before I put the kibosh on even _hotel_ sex, ya ass!” Belle snapped, even as she grinned at him.

Snapping off a salute so crisp, one’d think he’d once been in the military, he turned to head out onstage with his band before he wound up getting himself in trouble. He already considered it bad enough that he couldn’t make a Truth of an old lyric of the band’s by rolling her over and rocking her till the Morn Light while they were on the bus. If he’d his way about it, he wasn’t gonna ruin that for himself, even when they were in a hotel and far enough away from the girlsta avoid torturing them.

Zeph, Gypsi, and Belle didn’t even bother putting their instruments together till all but CC came backstage again following their cover of _What I Like about You_. His solo allowed them more than enough Time to get set up, which included getting those wireless collar mics clipped to the Ends. Not only that, but between that and _Cry Tough,_ they’d more than enough Time to warm up before they’d to head onstage.

Once the Lights went down after the song in question, the younger girl headed onto the stage to take her place so she was sitting back-to-back with her daddy. Bobby got himself settled comfortably on the piano stool while his wife and half-daughter were taking their places on either side of the stage. They always switched out who appeared from which side, just to keep the crowds on their toes, and tonight was no different. Gypsi’d come out from the side closest to him in Nashville the Night previous, so tonight was her mother’s turn to emerge from that side. After that, they’d switch again at their next show in a couple Nights, which was at the _Moondance Jam_ up in Minnesota.

Just like they always did, Zeph started playing in tandem with the older bassist once they were counted in, her spine as straight as she could manage to get it. Even his hunching over slightly as he always did when on piano didn’t really mess her up since all it did was allow her to lean back even more. That actually helped her, considering it opened up her much-smaller torso and allowed her to use her diaphragm more, which allowed her to play longer without taking a breath. Doing that helped her hold out certain notes for the amount of Time they were supposed to be held out, rather than cutting them short.

“Give it up for our very Gracious ladies!” Bret yelled into his mic as they moved to take a bow after finishing off the song. “Dragonfly, Storm, and _Firefly,_ folks!”

Belle and the girls took their bow, the middle-aged woman glad that he was remembering to use their _Craft names,_ which’d temporarily become stage names.

“Who’s ready to dance with us?” he laughed as they headed backstage again.

Since they were getting her in on _Stand_ tonight, Bobby didn’t try to get his wife to join them for _Your Mama Don’t Dance_ like he’d done before. As much as the vocalist needed to preserve his voice, she needed to do the same, if she was ever gonna make it through this particular song. He knew damn good and well she could recover a helluva lot faster, but there was a drawback to her vocal range few knew about.

Once her timbre settled into those low, growling notes she’d to hit when covering those lead-ins and that infamous one-liner, it was harder for her to climb back up to even higher than CC could manage. Her voice’d crack ten waysta Sun’s Day, at best–she simply wouldn’t be able to do anything but sing a bass line, at worst. Either way, it wouldn’t sound right with the song they were swapping out with _Unskinny Bop_ tonight, so he knew better than to try pushing it. That was a bad idea all the way around since he knew he’d have hell to pay later on after the show, and he really didn’t wanna do that.

“Whew!”

All the guys except Rikki practically tumbled backstage like a litter of hyper puppies.

“Ready for a break, huh?” Belle asked, already doling out cool towels and Water bottles.

“Damn straight,” the vocalist answered, gladly accepting the one she handed him alongside the one she handed to her older husband.

“It’s fun, as ya well know, but _soooo_ exhausting,” said husband chuckled.

“Not to mention hotter than forty Hells under those stage Lights,” the middle-aged woman laughed.

“Got that right,” they all agreed.

“Not even getting our funk on produces _that_ much heat,” Richie panted. “Well, not unless it’s a hundred degrees out.”

“That’s what Air conditioning’s for,” Belle retorted. “Howddaya think I manage to keep two men happy in the Arizona Desert?”

All of them cracked up, especially at the girls’ disgusted looks, knowing that she’d a point.

“Do y’all _really_ have to keep torturing us like that, Mama?” Gypsi groaned.

“Your fault for rising to the bait,” she snickered as she ruffled her hair. “Besides, you’ll be doing the same thing to your own Future kids– _if_ ya ever have any, that is–before ya know it.”

“She’s a point, sweetheart,” Bobby chuckled. “My mom and stepdad used to drive me nuts with that shit, and look at me now.”

“Yeah, so frickin’ perverted, your mind’s an utter sewer,” the older girl grumbled.

“Nah, that’s your mom,” he told her with a grin. “Trust me, Mama’s mind’s dirtier than mine and Daddy’s put together, hard as that might be to believe.”

The entire group of guys cracked up from where they’d flopped wherever they could manage during the break they were taking. After all, they were all hot, sweaty, and had sore feet already, and they didn’t wanna make it any worse than they needed to. If flopping on even the ground to stretch out helped them with their individual, yet collective plights, they were all for it.

Once Rikki’d Ended his drum solo, all but Bret got ready to head back out so they could keep the show going more or less as planned. While the rest of the guys were getting back into position at their mics, their instruments held at the ready, Belle headed up behind the riser his kit was on. She quickly handed him a Water bottle before hiding behind the curtain again, this Time with a wireless headset on her head. It was easier for her that way since her plan wasta start singing the chorus before she ever stepped out, but didn’t particularly wanna hold an actual mic.

“All right, folks–we’re gonna give Bret a few more minutesta take care of some personal needs,” Richie announced once they were all ready.

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause since the vocalist’s diabetes was well-known at this point.

“To that End…” He let his guitar hang down as he held his mandolin at the ready and nodded back to the drummer.

Returning the nod, he counted him and CC in, the lead guitarist having long since been taught the opening acoustic riff.

_“We all carry the cross, and speak what we’re taught_ – _lies and money become the white man’s God. We’ve burned all our Bridges one too many Times_ – _the Time has come now to draw the line!”_ the younger bassist sang, his voice far more Soulful and blusier than Bret’s.

_“Ya know you’ve got to stand…stand_ – _ah, stand for what you believe! Ya know you’ve got to stand…stand_ – _ah, stand for what you believe! Ooh, you got to…stand for what you believe!”_ Belle sang, somehow managing even higher notes than he and the lead guitarist as she joined them.

_“All right, all right_ – _ooh, ya gotta listen now…”_ Richie continued, swiping his arm out at her in a non-verbal, _Take it away, girl!_

_“Express yourself…in the face of Change_ – _repress yourself, you surely seal your Fate!”_ she sang, still hitting those ungodly high notes that few knew she could hit.

_“Ya gotta look inside_ – _the answer lies in wait! Resurrect before it’s too late!”_ the entire band sang before diving into the chorus again.

_“Somebody rescue me, come down and rescue me_ – _I know the Soul of a good man has got to be free when you stand…stand for what you believe!”_

CC switched riffs mid-song, knowing damn good and well the younger bassist was better at this particular solo since he’d been the one to write it. Richie nodded at him slightly before ripping into it, his expression almost what they’d call an _orgasm face_ as he played his fingersta the very bone. Everybody else simply engaged the crowd as they waited till it was Time to repeat the chorus again, which was when even the band got another surprise.

Unable to help the mischievous grin even the crowd could see from under the brim of her hat, Belle easily covered the part originally done by the choir leader featured on the studio version of this song. Her voice so rich and Soulful–even compared to the man she was singing co-lead with–that one almost woulda thought she _was_ a black woman, if they hadn’t been able to see her skin tone. That just proved how much more versatile her voice was than originally thought, and gave all these guys–not to mention the crowd before them–an even higher Respect for her than they already held.

Killing off that particular number, the middle-aged woman headed over to steal a kiss from her husband, who couldn’t help laughing as the crowd let out a collective _awww_. But that was where she surprised them yet again as Bret rejoined them by heading over to settle on the riser in front of Rikki’s bass drum. They all shot her confused looks since they knew _Every Rose_ was next in their setlist, which just earned them a grin.

Shrugging off their confusion, they all got into position so the vocalist could start his acoustic rhythm riff, CC back on lead. Bobby was on bass as he’d been for _Stand,_ which made his younger successor settle behind the keyboard he’d used for the piano part in _Something to Believe In_. None of them were quite sure what she was up to as Rikki counted them in, and that was just how she wanted it. She liked keeping these guys–especially her husbands–on their toes, and one could even say that doing so was her Life’s mission. That was why they were all surprised to hear some incredibly high notes join Bret before any of the others did once he got to the chorus of the song, which almost made him stop singing mid-song.

_Keep going,_ she mouthed as she waved a hand at him.

Unsure of where she was going with this, the vocalist simply nodded as he turned back to his mic.

Belle shot her older husband a grin when he turned enough to look at her, his sudden Change of expression saying he’d suddenly figured it out. He’d heard her singing along to this song at home before, and he knew damn good and well she could add some incredibly powerful vocals–not to mention Emotion–to it than none of them could pull off. Course, that was why he’d wanted her to cover Bret entirely the Summer previous when his voice’d shit out on them.

Still, she’d an even bigger surprise up her sleeves as they killed off that one and got ready to rip into another of her personal favorites. Making no move to hop down from the drum riser, she merely tapped her foot in midair as the guys shot her weird looks. Once again, she just motioned for them to get to it, her grin never once fading as they shot confused looks at each other and shrugged.

None of them were expecting her to stay out there with them for the rest of the show, which was the middle-aged woman’s Intent. They certainly weren’t expecting her to finally jump down from where she’d settled and start singing co-lead with even Bret as they ripped into _Talk Dirty to Me_. What was prolly even more of a surprise wasn’t the downright dirty grin she shot her older husband from across the stage, but rather the tone she was able to inject into her slightly higher vocals. Everyone could see–whether they were in the front row or watching on the screen behind the band from further back–how Bobby’s eyes widened and he stiffened from the Crown of his head to each individual toe.

That grin never slipped from her face as Belle managed not to crack up mid-song, her slightly-breathy Sound having the desired effect on her man. Judging by the grins Richie and CC shot her when she smacked his ass as he and the vocalist did their infamous _hop-stomp_ across the stage during the solo, they’d figured out what she was up to. Even the crowd had figured it out and started laughing when that teasing smack almost made the older bassist lose his balance and definitely made him hit a wrong note from being surprised since it’d come outta nowhere.

“Woman, you’re in for it when we get to that hotel!” he growled into his mic before grabbing his Water bottle a minute or so later.

“You’re just threatening me with a good Time, love,” the middle-aged woman retorted, still wearing that dirty, shit-eating grin.

“I think that’s what we _all_ wanna have– _nothin’ but a good Time!”_ Bret laughed, effectively calling out their encore.

Bobby growled again as his wife laughed at him, knowing damn good and well she could tell he was hiding Wood behind his bass now.

Still laughing as they ripped into said encore, she knew damn good and well what she was in for once they’d rounded out even that song. Belle simply knew her older husband too well after not quite twenty and a-half Years, so she knew how he got once he was in a certain mood. The fact that he wasn’t moving around nearly as much to avoid teasing himself was pretty much a dead giveaway, but especially to those who knew him even half as well as she did.

Almost before the last note’d died away, the older bassist turned his back to the crowd so he wouldn’t embarrass himself. He was quick to pull his bass off and hand it to his shared tech, the guys bursting into laughter as they saw how his fly strained against his arousal. Without giving her a chanceta argue the point, he swept his shared wife up and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of Taters again.

The middle-aged woman cackled as she mockingly pounded his back again, which just got her smacked across her up-turned rump. Her mic somehow caught him growling that it was her own fault, a split-second of feedback finding its way through the house speakers as he reached back up to turn off her Sound pack. None of the guys could quit laughing any more than the crowd could, Richie mindful enough to reach down and snatch up her hat from where it’d fallen off her head. She’d be madder than a swarm of killer Bees, if it got stepped on or otherwise ruined, and pretty much the entire band knew it.

“Well, looks like it’s definitely Time for curtain call,” Bret wheezed, wiping away tears after managing to Calm down enough to speak.

“Kansas City, ya were awesome, as always!” the drummer said from his kit.

“We look forward to coming back in the Future!” CC added.

“Thank ya, and good Night!” the now-lone brunette said before they turned to head backstage.

By the Time they got to the crew so they could hand off guitarsta be packed up and unwired, Bobby and Belle were nowhere to be found. However, Gypsi wore a bemused, but slightly-disgusted look as she merely rolled her eyes and pointed toward the dressing room her family’d been assigned. She and her baby sister–who’d fallen asleep in her lap–had already grabbed showers, so thankfully, they didn’t have to be exposed to them right now.

“Your mom _definitely_ knows how to get into your dad’s head,” Richie chuckled, wiping off the worst of the sweat.

“Damn near knows how to get into mine, too,” the lead guitarist laughed. “If I’d let _Shannon_ take her place in my head, I’d have wound up having the same–ahem, _problem.”_

“Shit, I’m glad I was sitting down,” Rikki said. “Left no room for _me_ to have that particular _problem,_ if I want everything to stay attached!”

“You’re the one who wore tight jeans, not us,” the vocalist quipped with a grin.

“As if yours aren’t damn near as tight, dude,” he retorted without missing a beat.

“Will y’all just shut up, jeez?” the older girl groaned.

The younger bassist was the only one to catch how she squirmed slightly, and if the others caught it, they prolly just thought it was from having Zeph’s head in her lap while her ass was going numb. Gently picking said younger girl up, he said he’d get them out to their family’s bus, the others nodding their agreement and saying they were heading off to grab a shower. He wanted to have a word with the older of this pair, ’cuz he knew damn good and well she wouldn’t tell just anyone, but he didn’t wanna embarrass her.

Once on the Dalls’ private bus, Richie put the brunette girl to bed in the bunk she shared with her sister before gently pulling said sister into the back lounge. He could tell just by the look on her face that she thought she was in trouble, and he was quick to reassure her that she wasn’t. In fact, he was also quick to assure her that she didn’t have to answer his question, if she didn’t wanna, but she’d better not lie to him, if she did.

“Part of why your parents’re getting on your nerves is ’cuz your own hormones’re getting to ya, huh?” he asked once they were settled on the couch there.

Gypsi’s entire face flushed Beet-red, and her lips clamped into a thin line.

“I thought so,” the younger bassist chuckled, gently rubbing her back. “It’s pretty obviousta anyone who caresta look, as it were.”

“Fuckin’ seriously?” she groaned, not bothering to watch her mouth since her sister was asleep, and her parents weren’t around.

“I’d like to think I’m old and experienced enough to know a horny woman when I see one,” Richie told her.

The blonde girl simply groaned again, hiding her face in her hands.

“I’d offer to help ya out with that, save two very specific reasons,” he said, which caught her attention.

“And what’re _those?”_ Gypsi asked curiously.

“First of all, you’re jail bait for me, and I don’t fancy going to jail,” the younger bassist laughed. “Secondly, I get the feeling your parents–especially that blonde giant of an Irishman–would try to kill me, even if ya _weren’t_ jail bait.”

“Daddy prolly would,” she admitted with a giggle. “He’s fuckin’ overprotective like that sometimes.”

“It’s a dad thing, especially with our baby girls,” Richie chuckled. “I’m the same way with Auggie, even when I don’t mean to be.”

“I kinda figured,” the blonde girl told him. “Not sure what Daddy Bobby’d do, though.”

“Kick any boy’s ass for messing with ya in _your_ daddy’s stead, if we’re still on the road.”

Shrieking, Gypsi whirled around to see her parents in the doorway and somehow damn near turned purple in embarrassment.

“Relax, man,” the younger bassist said. “Far as I know, no boys’ve even set their sights on her. I just happened to notice something I doubted she’d have been straight with anyone else about, but didn’t wanna embarrass her.”

“If it involves the Midnight moaning she thinks we haven’t heard, I’m not surprised,” Belle chuckled.

Her older daughter’s jaw dropped, which made all of them laugh as the couple settled on the couch arms so Bobby sat next to her, her mother next to his younger successor. Once they’d Calmed down, she told her that they’d heard more than she’d ever thought they had, but they’d chosen not to mention it for a reason. If it was embarrassing for her to call _them_ out on the amount of noise they made, it’d be doubly so for her since she was already at a sensitive age to Begin with. They’d wanted to give her as much privacy as possible under the circumstances, not to mention afford her a certain level of Respect she seemed Intent on _not_ giving to them, what with her constant teasing.

“And you’re damn right, I’d prolly try to kill ya,” the older bassist said, eyes locked with his younger successor once he repeated what he’d said before. “And then I’d help Duff try to kill ya all over again once we got off the road.”

“I thought so,” Richie chuckled. “Hence why I wouldn’t try, even if she _were_ at least eighteen.”

“Shit, it ain’t even my men ya need to be scared of,” Belle snorted. “Try the crazy bitch that sleeps with at least one knife under her pillow.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” he said, shaking his head. “I like my head round, not flat, and my nuts right where they are, thank ya very much. And I very much _would not_ like a new heart piercing, either.”

“Good boy, Rich,” the middle-aged woman snickered, patting the top of his head like he was a lil boy again. “Now, go grab a shower while we’re making sure these two’re good since we’ve that meet-and-greet tonight.”

“I’ll meetcha backstage,” Richie agreed, pushing himself up from the couch.

As he was heading back to the venue to grab that shower, Bobby to make sure his own daughter was tucked in and good to go for the Night, she turned her attention back to Gypsi. She gently cupped her cheek in one hand as she told her that–even if she wouldn’t go to any of the guys about such things–she shouldn’t be afraid to come to _her_ about them. Belle remembered all to well what it was like to feel like she couldn’t go to her own mother about certain feminine things, and she’d be damned if she made either of her girls feel like that. They didn’t have to, but she’d rather they come to her for shit like sexual advice and even the purchase of shit like condoms and sex toys.

Nodding as she Returned the hug her mother gave her, Gypsi said she’d pull her aside, if something like this came up again while they were on the road. Even if they weren’t, but rather back home in Arizona, she’d still pull her aside so her dads and brothers wouldn’t overhear. This wasn’t the kinda shit she wanted any of them–or any other male, for that matter–to know about her, if at all possible. Well, she amended that to no male besides any Future boyfriend she wound up with, but she didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

Chuckling as she called a truce on that, the middle-aged woman roseta head back to the venue for that meet-and-greet. She wasn’t surprised when her older daughter decided to join them, given that their driver was getting their bus ready to take off. He could keep an ear out for Zeph and make sure she didn’t need anything, if she happened to wake up, but she didn’t think she’d wake before Morn. The man was Gracious as ever, agreeing to do just that after taking care of shit like checking the tires since that’d put him outside the bus, where he wouldn’t actually hear her.

Backstage as they waited for the VIP crowd to be let in, everybody settled in a row at the table set up for them. They were alternated so there was a blonde between each brunette, the Ends of the row capped off by Richie and Rikki, the blonde girl in her half-daddy’s lap. Meet-and-greets could often be tedious, but they were always exciting in their own rights–not that anyone knew just how exciting tonight’s was gonna be.


	35. Thirty-Four

The decent-sized crowd that’d managed to acquire backstage passes for tonight’s show were let in once everyone was settled and ready. Even the other artists with them tonight–Dokken and Sebastian Bach–were settled at their own tables and ready for the Chaosta commence. Having been given the signal from everyone, the security guards moved to actually unlock and open the doors for said crowd.

Quickly establishing a certain sense of Order, they got everyone lined up so they could start with Sebastian and his solo band. From there, they’d make their rounds with Dokken before finally moving on to Poison and the womenfolk with them. Once they’d finished up with all three bands, they’d be escorted elsewhere to wait and see if any of the bands wanted to socialize further, or if they were gonna head back to their buses. They knew that not everyone’d wanna keep socializing–they were no doubt starting to get tired, after all–and some might not have the physical ability to.

As the crowd was making their way up each table one person at a Time, Belle’s eye was caught by someone toward the End of the line. Not ’cuz she was attracted to him–not enough to wanna cheat on either of her husbands, that is–but ’cuz she recognized him. Her older husband could tell that someone’d caught her eye based on the way she was acting, and he managed to catch her attention from around Bret. Shaking her head, she glanced back up at the man who’d caught her attention, then back to him, without saying a word.

Picking up on something being a lil _off,_ but that she’d explain it later, the older bassist shrugged and turned his attention back to the fan in front of him. They’d just taken their turn with getting CC–who was on their other side–to sign a handful of things for them, which the blonde’d done Graciously. But as was typical for him, Bobby refused to sign more than one item, which of course, pissed the person off. He still wouldn’t give in, though, ’cuz his ground rule was one item per fan, ’cuz he wasn’t letting anyone make money off him in any way–that included stupid-simple shit like his signature. It wasn’t fair for him to be exploited like that, even if the other guys _would_ allow fansta do that kinda shit, and he didn’t allow it.

“Awesome show, guys.”

Looking up after passing on the items they’d been signing, Belle saw the young man who’d caught her eye before. “I’m not the one ya oughta be saying that to,” she chuckled.

“You’re just as much a part of the band this tour, as far as I’m concerned,” he retorted, flashing her what could only be called a _Lady-killer_ grin.

“Take it elsewhere, kiddo,” the middle-aged woman laughed. “Whether I’ma cougar or not, I’ve enough already dished up to eat, so to speak.”

“I know you’re already with at least Bobby, butcha can’t blame a guy for trying.”

None of the guys could help laughing, even as said older bassist reached around his friend to momentarily grab her hand.

“Better watch it, kid–I’ma territorial fuck,” he warned him. “Only reason I share her with her other husband is ’cuz she scares me.”

Another bout of laughter followed as he mocked Fear, Belle reaching around to gently whack the back of his head.

“You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’ again, Dall,” Belle warned him with a grin.

“I’ll take that bruisin’ whenever you’re ready to dish it out, sugar,” Bobby shot back as he Returned the grin.

“You’re certainly a pretty one,” the guy in front of them said, gently making Gypsi look up at him after even she’d signed the bandana he’d handed Richie to start with.

The middle-aged woman let out a low growl before her husband even had a chance, which quickly caught his attention and made him look back to her.

“Ya got two choices, Mr. Purdy,” she snarled as he paled considerably. “Keep it in your britches and wait till she’s eighteen, or we can skip the trip to jail by me slaughtering ya right here, right now, before her half-daddy can even get her outta his lap.”

“Wait a minute–how’dja know my name?” The poor guy looked like he was ready to bolt for a couple different reasons.

“I know more aboutcha than you’d ever care to know,” Belle answered. “Although, a word of advice from somebody who gives a damn–don’t bother answering that ad from Andy, if ya haven’t already.”

The rest of Poison looked beyond confused, and while this final young man looked confused, he looked more than a lil terrified of her.

“Whaddaya mean, Mama?” Gypsi asked.

Bobby recognized the slightly hard look to her eyes as his wife said that now wasn’t the Time or placeta be getting into it. There were simply too many people around for something that was gonna get more than a lil personal, and not in a sexual manner. She didn’t wanna get into shit like that with more than her husband and _maybe_ his band in the room, and even then, having his band in the room was pushing it.

Looking back up to him, the older bassist said that he was better off listening to her, that whatever she’d to say to him was a doozy, to put it lightly. Unable to really do anything else, he simply nodded as he took his bandana back from Rikki once he was done signing it for him. However, he wasn’t expecting the lone woman to snag his wrist and pull him back slightly, nor for her to slip a scrap of paper into his hand before she let him go. But upon unfolding it once he’d stepped away, he saw it was a phone number with what he assumed was her name written underneath it.

The middle-aged woman simply smiled at him as she shooed him off, knowing she’d freaked him out enough for not just a Night, but an entire Lifetime. He seemed to get the unspoken message that that was her personal number, and to give it a call at a later date, if he really wanted to know what she’d been talking about. Naturally, her doing that surprised the men surrounding her, ’cuz they knew she was incredibly anal about who got her number and why.

After the meet-and-greet was brought to a close and the band members that wanted to were hanging out with a few select fans, Bobby took his wife and half-daughter back to the bus. They were all exhausted, especially the teenage girl, but he wouldn’t deny being more than a bit curious after that scene earlier. If he could get Belle to crack before that guy got in touch with her, he knew it wouldn’t be backstage where just anyone could overhear. Begging off the rest of the Night since they’d all fulfilled their duties, they bid the remaining fans a good Night before heading to their bus. That was when he finally took a deep breath, hoping he could get his wife to open up once they were alone and both girls were abed for the Night.

It took a couple Days for the young man to get in touch with her, but Belle wasn’t surprised that he was too curious _not_ to contact her. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t meet up with them anywhere else, so they agreed to meet up the Day after the tour Ended on September seventh. They were supposed to be playing at the State Fairgrounds in Hutchinson, Kansas about twenty-five milesta the Northwest of the State’s capitol, Witchita. Even though he was actually from clean across the State from where they’d met him, he’d said he was taking another trip to Kansas City to visit some family. It was a roughly three and a-half hour drive, no matter which route he took, but it was prolly the closest they’d get to meeting up.

Waiting at a café they’d decided to go to since they could fly back home from Witchita, the Dalls’d already bid their goodbyesta the rest of the band. Naturally, the girls were anxiousta get back home, mostly ’cuz they were beyond exhausted and ready to see the other half of their family again. Their mother was quick to shut them up by saying she’d have the airline crew lock them in the cargo hold, which was gonna get incredibly cold once they were up in the Air, if nothing else.

“Hey, there.”

Looking up from where they’d been reprimanding the girls, the couple saw the man they were waiting on next to their table.

“Afternoon,” Bobby greeted him, gesturing to the last chair. “Go on and sit down, kid.”

Nodding, he pulled out the chair and settled so that he was between him and Gypsi. “I’m assuming ya picked such an isolated table for a reason?”

“Well, we don’t tend to talk about this shit in front of just anyone,” the older bassist answered.

“Took us till about a Year or two ago to even tell the kids,” Belle added.

The younger man looked confused, but merely waited for them to continue.

“Ya were wanting to know how I knew your surname a couple months ago, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, and I still wanna know,” he answered.

“Same way I know your given name’s Ashley–supposedly after a _Gone With the Wind_ character,” the middle-aged woman told him.

“Only my parents, Nan, and Pop ever knew who I was named after,” Ashley breathed, his eyes widening.

“What wouldja say if I toldja I’m supposed to be my older daughter’s age?” Belle asked, unable to help a smirk.

“That you’re crazy,” he answered without missing a beat.

Bobby couldn’t help laughing as Zeph got up from her seat so she could settle in his lap, grinning as he told the younger man he didn’t know the half of how crazy his wife was. He was quick to add that, in all Honesty, she was more so eccentric than she was actually crazy, in terms of needing medication and/or professional help. He knew it’d be hard for him to believe without getting to know her, but he assured him that he–and her second husband–wouldn’t have stayed with her for so long, if she were truly crazy.

“My older husband’s right about all that, but he also knows I speak the Truth,” Belle told him.

“Kinda hard to deny, considering how we met,” he said, lacing their fingers together. “I mean, c’mon–who goesta bed in 1988, wakes up in 2018, and then has the right to call anyone else fuckin’ nuts?”

“Daddy!” the younger girl admonished him. “Chu knows chu punishment!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah–Mama can wash my mouth out with vinegar later, baby girl,” the older bassist chuckled.

“Wait, you’re serious about all that?” Ashley asked, looking downright floored.

“Dead serious, kiddo,” the middle-aged woman answered, nodding. “I went to bed alone, only to wake up to him and Duff on either side of me.”

“Duff and I went to bed alone, too–him on his tour bus somewhere here in the Midwest, me in my bed back in LA,” Bobby told him. “When we woke up, we weren’t alone–or even in 1988–anymore.”

The younger man looked flabbergasted as he processed the fact that he was talking to not only a celebrity, but a woman who was technically from the Future. Laughing at the look on his face, the couple gave him a few momentsta actually process that before they even tried to continue. After all, the point in meeting up with him wasn’t to truly blow his mind, but Enlighten him to some shit and clarify things from that Night a couple months ago. Causing a total breakdown of left-brain activity like Belle’d busted out her picc wouldn’t help them with either of those goals.

“So, how on Earth’re ya clearly in your forties, if you’re supposed to be your daughter’s age?” Ashley asked.

“’Cuz when the Morrígan–a Celtic Goddess, by the way–came to take Bobby and Duff back to 1988, she offered me a choice,” the middle-aged woman answered.

“Whaddaya mean by that?” He couldn’t help his confused look.

_“With choice comes reward, and with reward comes choice,”_ Belle said, quoting what the Goddess in question’d once told her. “I choseta help the two of them instead of leaving them to fend for ’emselves in an unfamiliar World, which earned me a reward.”

“That reward wasta either come back to 1988 with us, or stay in 2018,” the older bassist told him.

“Which’s how the reward came with a choice,” Ashley said, nodding as he started to get it.

“Since I was already twenty-four when I met those two, I remained that age when I Time Traveled, myself,” the middle-aged woman explained.

The younger man looked surprised when he realized that she was the exact same age as at least the man next to her. Laughing, Bobby admitted that–if the Time Travel business _hadn’t_ occurred–he’d be roughly three weeks shy of thirty Years older than her. But since it _had_ happened and she’d done some Time Traveling of her own, that put her as being roughly three weeks older than _him_. Duff clocked in at almost the same age, ’cuz he was about three months younger than he was, which meant they were all currently pushing their forty-fifth birthdays. Something that was lucky for all of them, though, was that their shared wife was a quick learner, and she hadn’t taken long to catch on to some of the nuances of their generation.

“I mean, there were certain things about the sixties and seventies that she shoulda gotten, if she’d grown up in that Time period,” he said.

“Hell, there were some parts of the eighties I didn’t get just ’cuz even _that_ decade was almost over by the Time I got to it,” Belle laughed.

“But we managed to explain what she was confused about, so she was able to act like she grew up alongside us,” the older bassist told him. “Ever since then, she hasn’t seemed any different, so nobody’s questioned anything but how we met in the first place.”

“We just like to say I was a groupie at a Poison show, and Bobby didn’t know I went to see GN’R till he came home to find me cooking lunch for him and a certain other bassist,” she snickered.

“I _thought_ the Duff in question was GN’R’s former bassist,” Ashley chuckled.

“That’d be _this_ lil punk’s dad,” Belle told him, pulling Gypsi against her.

“Gotta say, he makes some damn cute kids, if that’s the case,” he said, making the teenager blush.

“Watch it, Purdy,” the middle-aged woman warned him. “She might not be his, but Bobby’s still every bit as protective over her.”

“Let her dad catch wind that she’s a pussy-hound sniffing around her, and he’ll go as berserk as I would, if it were Zeph,” Bobby chuckled.

“Whas a pussy?” said daughter asked as she looked up at him.

“Not the Time or place,” he told her. “’Cuz I’m not talking about a kitty-Cat.”

“Robert,” his wife said, a warning tone making her sound like she was growling.

The older bassist held his hands up in surrender, even though he grinned as he said that he didn’t wanna get cut off unless it was by his own choice. After being on the road with her for the last couple months, he knew she was gonna want Time with just Duff as much as he was gonna want alone Time. Under circumstances like that, he was more than willing to get cut off since it’d give him a well-deserved break.

“Now I guess I wanna know–what’dja mean by don’t answer that ad?” Ashley asked once they’d turned their attention back to him.

“Well, this is one of those choice equals reward, and reward equals choice kinda things,” Belle told him. “And personally, knowing what I know, I wouldn’t bother answering that ad.”

The younger man cocked a brow at her, his arms now crossed over his chest.

“If ya answer that ad, you’re gonna have a helluva run with a band called Black Veil Brides,” she started. “But the End to your Time in that band–not worth all the risks, if ya ask me.”

“Care to elaborate?” he asked.

“I’m not gonna ask for clarification,” the middle-aged woman said, reaching out with her free hand to pull one of his away from his chest. She noted the lack of tattoos across his knuckles that woulda spelled out the word _Fidelity_ when his fingers were laced together a certain way.

Ashley wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but still let her take his hand and squeeze it.

“Your End to your Time in Black Veil Brides–it’s gonna come almost at the cost of your Sanity,” she told him. “And I mean that literally.”

“Whaddaya mean, sugar?” Bobby asked, looking equally confused.

“I know that Ashley comes from a long line of suicidal men,” Belle answered, taking the younger man by surprise. “I can’t remember which ones, and that’s assuming that what I read online _wasn’t_ falsified by the media, but there were at least two or three. One was supposedly his dad, but I never knew for sure.”

“’Cuz my dad _did_ off himself,” he said, practically whimpering as his eyes turned haunted. “I was three, ’cuz the last picture of me with my parents was the Thanksgiving before my third birthday.”

The middle-aged woman was quick to rise from her seat, which was when she moved around the table to wrap her arms around his neck from behind him. Ashley wasn’t quite sure whether to take the move as motherly, or as Comfort offered by a friend, but he didn’t try to shake her off. If anything, he actually reached up to grab her arm, quickly loosening his grip when he heard her soft wince as he grabbed her wrist.

Even Bobby couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for this poor kid, ’cuz it was pretty clear that he’d been through a lot in what was apparently a short Life. If he’d to even try guessing, he’d say this kid was only about twenty-four, maybe twenty-five, and had been through just as rough a Life thus far as he’d been at his age. And from the sounds of things, the poor guy’s Life wasn’t gonna get any easier for a long Time to come, if it ever did, if he didn’t heed the warning his wife was trying to give him. Things were just gonna get harder than he could ever imagine, and damn near cost him things he wouldn’t ever consider giving up.

“Ashley, keep in mind that I’m not bringing up that part of your Past–no matter how true or false–lightly,” she told him once he’d composed himself.

“I kinda figuredja wouldn’t,” the younger man managed to get out.

“No more lightly than I bring up either of my husbands being abandoned by their dads as much as I was abandoned by my own,” Belle said, a small smile crossing her lips.

Her older husband simply nodded when he looked at him, unable to help the haunted look to his own eyes now. “That’s part of why she, Duff, and I get along so well–we get each other in ways others can’t.”

“I only brought that up, ’cuz…well, to be frank about it, when I said Black Veil Brides is damn near gonna cost your Sanity, I wasn’t kidding,” the middle-aged woman continued.

“Part of me wantsta know, just so I can avoid it, but at the same Time…” Ashley bit his lip.

“Being in that band–it’s gonna garner ya more attention than you’re gonna know what to do with, in several different ways,” she told him. “That’s gonna be up to and including a stalker that makes ya feel forced to move from So Cal out to Nashville around 2015.”

The younger man hissed as he winced at the very Thought, peeking out at her through one eye that was every bit as Chocolate as hers and her older husband’s. Part of him knew that pretty much every celebrity on the Planet faced the chance of being stalked, especially once they’d gained notoriety. But no one ever thought it’d _actually_ happen to them when they got into some form of business that put them in the spotlight. If he were honest with himself, he didn’t wanna imagine Life with that happening to him, whether it was today or several Years from now.

Belle continued by telling him that being stalked and forced into another cross-country move combined with the blatant lack of support from his band was the main thing that damn near drove him to suicide. She wasn’t exactly sure _when_ he was even gonna consider such an End for himself, ’cuz he was nearly as Secretive as Bobby when it came to his personal Life. That wasn’t to say that being Secretive was a bad thing, _per sé_ –it just meant that she couldn’t be completely straight with him, and it wasn’t ’cuz she wanted to be even remotely misleading. All she could share with him was what she knew for sure was fact, and it seemed that the facts were pretty grim, all things considered.

Ashley’s jaw dropped when she made a comparison he hadn’t thought she’d come anywhere near closeta making that her older husband actually agreed with. Practically spitting the words, she said that this Andy character was actually gonna wind up being even more narcissistic than Bobby’s own band mate, Bret. If anyone suffered from what she called _lead singer disease_ worse than him and Vince Neil combined, it was whoever this kid was, or they hadn’t been born as of yet.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong–I’ve gotten to know Bret a lot better than he was ever portrayed in the media before all this Time Travel business,” the middle-aged woman said. “He’s a good guy at heart, damn near runs himself into his grave too soon, if it means putting those he cares about first.”

“That’s definitely true about Bret, and always has been–even _before_ all the Time Traveling,” Bobby agreed, nodding Sagely.

“But Bret’s still narcissistic enough to make me wanna smack him so hard, his eyes roll independently of each other from Time to Time,” Belle chuckled.

“I’m guessing it takes a lot to actually make ya _do_ something like that?” Ashley asked.

“Kid, she’s a temper on her that makes even Duff and his Irish heritage look like a teddy bear,” the older bassist laughed. “When I said at that meet-and-greet a couple months ago that she actually scares me sometimes, I wasn’t kidding.”

“Keeps your wild ass toned down and in line when we’re at home, doesn’t it?” she asked. “Not to mention outta the bar’s liquor.”

“Gods, I’d rather my head _not_ get cracked open by the bottle I know you’d smash on it, if I did _that,”_ Bobby chuckled.

“Wait, ya own a bar?” the younger man answered.

“Out near where we live outside Phoenix,” Belle answered, nodding. “He, Duff, and I co-own it, kinda like we work together to raise all four kids under the same roof.”

He actually looked surprised by that, given that he’d thought that–while she maintained two separate relationships with her men–they didn’t all live under the same roof together. Gypsi was quick to correct him as she laughed, saying that she didn’t refer to the older bassist as _Daddy Bobby_ for nothing. Her siblings were no different, if they were referring to the man that _hadn’t_ actually sired them, and it’d been that way since her older half-brother was born.

As Belle headed off to escort her younger daughter to the restroom, her older husband focused his attention on the younger man. He made no bones about getting the feeling that Ashley wanted to meet Duff for himself now, a smirk crossing his face when the younger man blushed. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when he finally admitted that he was right, the blonde having been one of his Influences when it came to his interest in Music, particularly bass. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have other Influences–Nikki Sixx was actually another big one in his book–but he admitted that he listened to more Dokken than Poison. Granted, that might just Change now, but he wasn’t making any promises since he wasn’t sure he could keep them.

By the Time mother and daughter’d Returned from their potty break, they’d worked out the young man coming out to Arizona. He Intended to finish out his visit with his folks in Kansas City, but instead of heading straight back to the Los Angeles area, he was gonna make a pit stop in the Phoenix area. At least that’d give these four Time to get back home and somewhat adjusted to being off the road after this Summer’s tour.

It wasn’t long before they decided to part ways so the quartet could get going, all of them eager to get back home after such Insanity. Ashley told the middle-aged woman that he wasn’t gonna just ignore her words, but he wasn’t sure about _not_ answering that ad, either. Chuckling, she told him that she expected no less than him carefully pondering his options, although she still hoped he wouldn’t make what she considered the biggest mistake of his Life. The only thing she could do was give him a warning and an open ear to send ideas through–when it was all said and done, she couldn’t make the choice _for_ him.


	36. Thirty-Five

It was a couple weeks after the _Live, Raw, and Uncut_ tour saw its End that young Ashley finally got in touch with Belle about flying out to Phoenix. She’d told him to text her his flight information, and she’d see about being able to pick him up from the airport when he landed. Her only reasons for being unable to were if she was picking the kids up from school, or if she’d already joined her husbands at the bar they’d said they owned at that meeting in Kansas.

Unfortunately for him, it turned out that she wasn’t gonna be able to pick him up from PHX once he was on the ground again. The Time when his flight was supposed to land was when she’d be out picking the kids up from school, and Duff was already gonna be headed to the bar. Her older husband was taking these couple weeks off to recuperate from his tour, so he’d most likely be asleep since he always took at least a couple weeksta get back to normal after such a thing. Laughing as he’d typed out his response, the younger man’d told her that it was fine–he could just catch a cab, if she’d give him their address.

“Um, can I help you?”

Ashley was forced to do a double-take when the door of the house he’d arrived at was opened, ’cuz he’d almost swear he was looking at a much-younger Bobby. “I’m looking for Belle, Bobby, or both.”

“Yo, Mom!” the guy who’d answered the door yelled over his shoulder.

“Better not be anyone selling Girl Scout cookies, ’cuz I don’t want any!” he heard a familiar voice respond from somewhere in the house.

“Ya got somebody asking for ya, unless your name’s suddenly no longer Belle,” he chuckled.

Moments later, the woman he’d met a few months ago appeared in the front hall. “Glad to see ya made it, Ashley,” she said, moving to yank the much-younger man back.

“I’m just glad to know that I’m at the right place, even if I’m hallucinating,” Ashley laughed as he stepped into the foyer.

“Nah, you’re not hallucinating, if you’re thinking what I _think_ ya are,” the middle-aged woman told him, Returning the hug he gave her.

“Well, I’d _swear_ I’m looking at a teenage version of Bobby,” he said.

“Zep’s always looked like a lil clone of his daddy,” Belle said with a laugh of her own. “That’s how we knew who’d fathered him when he was born.”

He couldn’t help how his eyes widened in surprise as she closed the front door behind him and actually introduced her older son. She said the young man’s name was actually Zeppelin, but they’d called him Zep since the very Day he was born pushing eighteen Years ago. Now he got why it seemed like his father’d been de-aged when he’d answered the door, although that obviously wasn’t the case.

Telling said son to take his bags down to the basement living area, the middle-aged woman said they’d figure out exact sleeping arrangements later. Her younger son may or may not be willing to give up his bed, and if he wasn’t, they’d worry about setting up the sofa bed for him. If the lil guy _was_ willing to give up his bed for their guest, she saw no reason to go through the hell of doing unnecessary setup for him. Ashley couldn’t say he disagreed with that, nodding as he followed her through the archway that led to her living room–which was actually bigger than he’d have thought it was.

Almost as soon as they walked through the door, Belle was practically tackled by a body capped with hair a couple shades Darker than he remembered Gypsi’s being. Prying said body loose, she laughed as she introduced her younger son, Levi, who turned out to be the second child she had with Duff. Now he knew where the boy’d gotten his blonde hair, which was clearly Darkening to brown like his father’s had once done. Besides that fact, the boy looked almost like a miniature version of said father at what’d to be seven or eight Years old.

Looking out the wall of windows that overlooked the covered patio, the younger man saw the pair of girls he’d met earlier that Summer. They were taking turns going down the Water slide built into the pile of boulders meant to look like a Natural Waterfall. It appeared they were having fun, and he couldn’t help a laugh as their older brother Returned from taking his bags downstairs for him. Zep was quick to catch his attention, though, looking every bit like their mother had that Summer as he warned him not to fuck with his sisters. Whether they’d two daddies looking out for them or not, he wasn’t one to be messed with in his own right, and he’d stop at nothing to protect them.

“Perfect example–I damn near got the parents arrested for taking a gun to school to protect _myself_ a couple Years ago,” he told him.

Ashley’s jaw dropped as the boy’s mother nodded.

“Damn near got his head knocked off for that,” Belle said. “Only having better sense than that–and two husbandsta hold me back–stopped me.”

“What in the hell’d make ya take a gun to school, though, kid?” the younger man asked. “’Cuz I know I’ma country boy and all, but even _I’m_ smarter than that.”

_“You_ try getting jumped by a pack of paparazzi and have no one answer your cries for help, then tell me ya wouldn’t at least consider the same,” Zep dead-panned.

He couldn’t help a wince as he thought about it like that. “Okay, maybe I _would_ at least consider it–but that doesn’t mean I’d _do_ it.”

“Unfortunately, that’s one of the prices of fame,” his mother said. “Which was part of why we mostly raised the kids in Tennessee.”

“That explains the accents, then,” Ashley chuckled. “’Cuz I knew they sounded Southern, but I couldn’t figure out exactly _where_ they came from.”

“I’m originally from North Carolina,” she laughed. “But half my family was from between Knoxville and Chat’nooga.”

“That makes sense,” the younger man mused, nodding.

“When Bobby and Duff couldn’t quit arguing over Seattle or Miami when we were trying to come up with a placeta even _start_ house-hunting back in the nineties, I told ’em to let _me_ pick,” Belle explained. “I picked Tenn, not ’cuz it was closer to my roots, but to satisfy all three of us.”

He wasn’t quite sure he was following what she meant, which made him cock a brow at her curiously as they settled in the living room. Zep took his baby brother out back with their sisters as she explained that where she’d picked up toward Johnson City was almost the perfect Balance between her husbands’ hometowns. It was cold and Snowy–even sometimes Icy–during the Winter, which suited the blonde since he practically grew up in the Cascades. On the other hand, it was hot and humid–even up in the higher elevations–during the Summer, which was more like where the brunette’d grown up.

As he pondered it, Ashley could see how that’d be an almost perfect Balance that worked out for them, if one didn’t count not having a Beach in their back yard. The middle-aged woman laughed as she admitted that Bobby hadn’t exactly been happy about that, but he’d also seen the point she’d been trying to make. He was willing to give up having a back yard to Europe, as it were, if it meant keeping his family intact, as long as he at least got his desired level of heat and humidity for part of the Year.

The younger man couldn’t help wondering what’d made them decide to move out to the Arizona Desert, if they’d been so happy in Tenn. Belle explained how they’d been wanting to open their bar pretty much since Gypsi was still in utero, but where they were living hadn’t exactly been an ideal place. It was more suited to honky-tonks and other country-themed bars, not the rock ‘n’ roll haunt they were going for.

“We wanted something more akin to the Hard Rock Café, after all,” she told him.

“Okay, yeah–I can see how that wouldn’t work out too well in just about _any_ part of Tennessee,” Ashley laughed.

“But out here–well, even _without_ a neighborhood poll, of sorts, it was pretty obvious we’d have better Luck,” the middle-aged woman chuckled. She held up a hand to cut off whatever response’d been about to roll off his tongue, cocking her head as she looked toward the hallway that’d led to the left when he’d entered.

_“Mmmph.”_

Laughing softly, she roseta greet whoever was apparently coming down that hall, and the younger man wasn’t disappointed to see that it was a sleepy Bobby.

“Say hey to our guest, love,” Belle told him.

_“Hmm?”_ The older bassist peeled open his eyes as he raised his head. _“Mmm_ –hey, man.”

“Still exhausted from the tour?” Ashley asked with a chuckle.

“Six on one, half a dozen on the other,” he answered, unable to help a yawn as he Cat-stretched so his back was arched and he momentarily stood on tiptoe.

“He means that we almost never have a _normal_ sleep schedule around here,” Belle explained. “When you’ve to be Nocturnal for your business, but Diurnal for shit like your kids…”

“Ah, I gotcha.” He nodded as Bobby flopped down on the couch. “I can see how that’d exhaust just about anybody, even without a tour.”

“It’s definitely demanding,” the middle-aged woman admitted. “Which means you’re prolly not gonna actually meet Duff till sometime tomorrow afternoon or Eve.”

“Ya said he’d to go to the bar tonight, right?” Ashley asked.

Nodding, she said that usually, all three of them headed to Paradise City so they could work alongside their few employees. While Poison’d been on tour, though, Duff’d held down the bar on his own, a couple new folks hired to pick up the slack left by her and her older husband. Given that they were taking some Time to get their heads on straight again, they were keeping those new hires for another couple weeks, and that’d prolly be it before they were ready to get back to Life as they knew it.

Bobby practically purred as she settled beside him and handed him a mug of coffee, which was pretty much the only thing to make him sit up. Even if he _wasn’t_ still exhausted from his tour roughly two weeks later, it was pretty obvious he’d just woken up, if his disheveled appearance was anything to go by. After all, he’d been far more put-together during that meet-and-greet, despite having gotten offstage shortly before then.

It wasn’t long before the quartet of kids came tearing in the back door, all the younger ones clamoring for food since it was edging on their normal dinnertime. Sticking a couple fingers in his mouth, Zep let out an ear-piercing whistle that made his dad wince and their guest cover his ears as he peeked out at him through one eye. One couldn’t deny that the boy could take charge of a situation as well as his mother could, and it was pretty obvious where he’d gotten that ability from. Then again, based on what he’d been told so far and seen in the media over the Years, both the older bassists were the slave-drivers of their bands. No doubt they’d an uncanny ability to take charge like none other when they felt like it or otherwise had a need to.

Dinner consisted of a couple boxes of Hamburger Helper, considering the boy wasn’t nearly the chef that his parents were. At least it was enough to placate his siblings before they were shooed off for their baths since it was a Moon’s Day, and they all had school in the Morn. Levi was even talked into giving up his bed for their guest, although he didn’t appear to be too happy about having to share a room with his brother. Belle laughed as the kids soon dispersed once they were done eating, saying that the boys’d shared a room till they’d moved out here four Years ago.

With the kids off to take care of their Nighttime routines, Zep saying he’d make sure the brats either made it onto their buses or into her truck in the Morn, the adults were left to relax. Ashley was tired after his flight to Phoenix, which left him going back an hour in Time, but he wasn’t quite tired enough to go to bed. There was no way in hell the older bassist was going back to bed anytime soon, even if he didn’t quite feel up to heading off to their bar. And it didn’t seem his wife’d any inclination of heading to said establishment, either, whether they’d a guest or not. Course, given what they’d already told him, he didn’t really blame them for wanting to be lazy right now, as busy as he was sure they’d been. The couple laughed as they said he didn’t even know the half of it, and judging by their devious grins, he knew his pit stop here was gonna be an entertaining one.


End file.
